Luyện nghe bài hát White Boots Marching in a Yellow Land

The pilot's playing in the cockpit of the plane
The casualties are rising like the of rain
And the of machinery will fall before a man
When white boots marching in a yellow land

It's in the ashes of the village towns we burn
It's written in the bed of the fathers unreturned
And the chocolate in the children's eyes never understand
When white boots marching in a yellow land

Red, blow the bugles of the
The morning has arrived, you must be
And the lost patrol chase their souls
cold whores following tired armies

Train them well, the men who will be fighting by side
And never turn your if the battle turns the tide
For the colors of a war are louder than commands
When you're white boots marching in a land

Blow them from the and burn them from your sight
Tie hands behind their back and question through the night
But when the firing squad is ready, they'll be spitting where they
At the white boots marching in a yellow

Red, the bugles of the dawn
The has arrived, you must be gone
And the patrol chase their chartered souls
Like cold whores following armies

The comic and the beauty are dancing on the stage
Raw recruits are lining up coffins in a cage
We're fighting in a war, we lost before the war
We're the white boots in a yellow land

And the lost chase their chartered souls
Like whores following tired armies