Luyện nghe bài hát You Can't Hold The Hand Of A Rock And Roll Man

This week's cash for week's grass your crew collates
While you sit in the van and
Gassed and trashed and smashed, young cads roasting
On a sunny day or, okay, an August night anyway

And you're living on air, on the 25th floor up there
They'd fan a bucks before your face
passed out in a chair with her once fussed-over hair
All mussed into an I've just been fucked

an hour before, she crashed, all cashed
She said, I'm done with back, and you look your age
is thirty-seven, by the way, and not twenty-eight

And fucking let them stare because at point I don't care
I have been your bride stripped bare 98
And our silver-screen affair, it weighs less to me air
a gas now, it's a laugh, just how far several mil can take it

This week's fast as last week's flash of
you starved and never ate
This week's a sick, gold cast across your face
As you roam on silk, ripped tippy-toe alone through lake

Splayed astride a snow-white mare, on a non-stop all-night
What a ghastly you smear in every face
In that fat, fur-trimmed affair that your lawyer you wear
You'll destroy your chance to ever get engaged