Luyện nghe bài hát Tombstone Blues

The pretty things are in bed now, of course
The city fathers, they're to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's
But the town has no need to be

The ghost of Belle Starr, she down her wits
To Jezebel the nun, she knits
A bald wig for the Ripper, who sits
At the head of the Chamber of

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues

The hysterical in the penny arcade
Screaming, she moans, "I've been made"
Then sends out for the doctor, who pulls the shade
And says, "My advice is to not let the in"

Now, the man comes and he shuffles inside
He walks with a swagger and he to the bride
"Stop all this weeping, your pride
You will not die, not poison"

Mama's in the factory, she got no shoes
in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I'm in the with the tombstone blues

Well, John the Baptist, after torturing a
up at his hero, the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me, great hero, but please make it
Is there a for me to get sick in?"

The Commander-in-Chief answers him chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would and cry"
And, dropping a barbell, he to the sky
Saying, "The not yellow, it's chicken"

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, lookin' for food
I'm in the kitchen with the tombstone

The king of the Philistines, his soldiers to
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and their graves
Puts the pipers in prison and fattens the slaves
Then sends out to the jungle

Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch, he burns out their
his faithful slave Pedro behind him, he tramps
With a fantastic of stamps
To win and influence his uncle

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in trouble the tombstone blues

The geometry of innocence, flesh on the
Causes Galileo's math to get thrown
At Delilah, who's sitting worthlessly
But the tears on her cheeks are laughter

I wish I could give Brother his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the
Then send out for some and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the kitchen the tombstone blues

Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll
Tuba players now around the flagpole
And the Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul
To the old folks' home and the

Now, I wish I could write you a so plain
That could hold you, dear lady, from going
That could ease you and you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless

in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's for food
I'm in the with the tombstone blues, oh right