Luyện nghe bài hát Working Girls

She said she came Portland
the ashen skies and leaden ocean
Left her the local boys, barren of emotion
As we we watched the raindrops
Running down the
in Darlinghurst,
Like a fish from the past.

And her mother called her
After Magdalene,
To deny her
Would have the greatest sin
It was a in the neon and a Kings Cross Doorway lean
To half an hour of tending someone else's dream.

There were lines of sailors, lines of
Lines upon the where she stared
When were quiet, as night deferred to dawn.
And the coke cups played red
In the breeze that scuttled the streets
Taxies left for greener
While stretched and yawned

And her called her Mary
Mary Magdalene,
There were in the morning,
She had sisters in the
And the wives would clutch husbands
Perhaps they the shame,
'cause working streets and Weddingrings are sometimes the same.

She tap-danced with the
Near the shouting blues songs
They remembered from teenage years of dreamtime radio.
And the years behind her eyes
To let the little girl out
In childish innocence
At in the sand.

And her called her Mary
Mary Magdalene,
She had long dark hair and oil
And a key to let you in;
And the lines her face were maps of roads she'd travelled,
Lined with people throwing because they didn't understand,
That a half an of tenderness (perhaps they shared the same)
'cause streets and Weddingrings are sometimes much the same.