Luyện nghe bài hát Tower Three

The echo of a thousand marching boots hammers on the air.
anthems, chanting oaths and whistle as Salome lifts her skirt
because 'real' men and they're healthy, happy... own the
place. They raise hell they're sober, wrestle tigers when
they're drunk. In their rooms a picture of the queen nestles
in between August and a placard saying HOME IS WHERE THE HEART
IS. (Keep it pure, keep it white. Keep it free of
freedom is so valuable and getting scarcer.). Fight! So they
march. Smashing windows, splashing slogans, pushing petrol
through doors 'til a uniform appears. Gently in the ear of
the leader. "That's against the law but ignore it this time.
Krime's got to be official!"
Keep it clean. Keep it quiet. In a lonely moor the working,
bigger holes hold more... And the patriots stay in as convoys
down the street. No-one hears the weeping, listens for the
cracks at dawn. The shovelling on and on and on. But the
patriots frightened cos they heard it on T.V. that a Golden Age
'round the corner. And day now...