Luyện nghe bài hát Work Song

Deliver the deliver the porn
Deliver the baker the morn
A jibberin' shiverin' mass

Of sunshine and good times that I have to
On the way to my job on the way to my
On the way to that slobberin' hoverin'

Who's my today? Who's my boss to stay?
Who's my supervisor I'm in my grave?
A on the run still under the gun
Of Attila the Hun with a bun

I don't know son, was there somethin' I
I think Fritz Lang was a fantasist
Metropolis exists is
If you listen you can hear the piss

Every day's another loss need the pay so please the
the sludge they mingle by the mile
Every worker ahead ah the kiddies must be fed
So trudge along in single file

Joo boo haa ooo

And you turn and you toil and you burn and you
In the tourniquet coil of the folks' soil
with a malaise worse than disses or dope
Wakin' up in a haze with your wishes and
And your poor dreams all wrapped up in burlap

you carry around for a sniff or a snack
Or a taste in your haste to get right on track
Outta whack with the but acquiring the knack
Of ignoring the rustle quietly seethes
The hustle, the the air that you breathe

Every day's loss need the pay so please the boss
Through the they mingle by the mile
Every worker looks ahead ah the kiddies be fed
So they trudge along in single

Joo boo haa ooo