Luyện nghe bài hát Truckload of Art

Once upon a time, ago
Back on the East coast in New City, to be exact
A bunch of artists and and sculptors and musicians
And poets and and dancers and architects

All feeling real superior to their ego counterparts
Out on the Coast
So they all got together and
They would show snotty surfer upstarts
A or two about the Big Apple

And hired themselves a truck
It was a big, spanking new white-shiny chrome-plated
Peterbilt mud flaps, stereo, TV, AM and FM radio
seats and a Naugahyde sleeper

All fresh with new American Flag and "ART ARK"
on the side of the door with solid twenty-four karat gold leaf type
And they filled up truck with the most significant piles
And influential heaps of art work to ever be in modern times

And it it West
To chide, cajole, humble and humiliate the Golden
And this is the true story of that

Hail, a truckload of art from New City
rollin' down the road
Oh, the was singing and the sunset was pretty
But the truck turned and she rolled off the road

Yeah, the truckload of art, it's burning the highway
Precious objects are scattered all over the
And it's a sight if a person were to see it
But there weren't around

Yeah, the driver went high in the sky
Landing in the gold lap of the
Who smiled and then said, "Son, you're off dead
Than a truckload full of hot avant-garde"

Yeah, the truckload of art, it's burning near the
Precious objects are scattered all the ground
And it's a terrible sight if a person to see it
But weren't nobody around

Yes, an important artwork was burning to the ground
Tragically in the weeds
And the could be seen, ah, for miles all around
Yeah, but nobody knows what it

Yeah, the truckload of art, it's burning near the
And a job for the highway patrol
Ah, they'll soon see the smoke an' come to poke
Then dig a deep ditch and the arts in a hole

Yeah, the of art, it's burning near the highway
And it's far out of control
And what the critics cheered is now shattered and queered
And their reviews have been stewed on the road

Yeah, the truckload of art, it's burning near the
Precious objects are scattered all over the
A terrible if a person were to see it
But there nobody around