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

This week's cash for last week's grass your crew
you sit in the van and wait
Gassed and trashed and smashed, young roasting away
On a summer day or, okay, an August night anyway

And you're on air, while on the 25th floor up there
fan a million bucks before your face
Marie's out in a chair with her once fussed-over hair
All mussed into an I've been fucked shape

Just an before, she crashed, all cashed
She said, I'm with looking back, and you look your age
Which is thirty-seven, by the way, and not

And fucking let them stare because at this point I don't
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 flash of interstate
When you starved and ate
This week's splashed a sick, gold across your face
As you roam on silk, ripped tippy-toe through Silver lake

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