Luyện nghe bài hát Working Girls

She said she from Portland
the ashen skies and leaden ocean
Left her like the local boys, barren of
As we talked we watched the
down the window
in Darlinghurst,
Like a fish shop the past.

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

were lines of sailors, lines of speed
Lines upon the Footpath where she
When things were quiet, as night to dawn.
And the coke cups red rover
In the breeze scuttled through the streets
Taxies left for fields
While stretched and yawned

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

She with the buskers
Near the subway shouting songs
They remembered their teenage years of dreamtime radio.
And the years behind her eyes
To let the little girl out
In simple childish
At in the sand.

And her mother her Mary
After Magdalene,
She had long dark and massage oil
And a key to let you in;
And the upon her face were maps of roads she'd travelled,
Lined with people throwing stones because they understand,
That a half an hour of tenderness (perhaps shared the same)
'cause working streets and Weddingrings are much the same.