Luyện nghe bài hát Young Lions

Hot tribal
underneath florescent
bonfires strange
wild waving shouting Picasso

In the of a lioness
the wind kisses her dress
you can fell her eyes
you can them cry,
"Be the jewel my neck,
never a on my burning dress"

Lying, paralyzed,
a brave prey who dying
and is surrounded by angry
hunters, guns, drums, and

Why is this quiet?
filled with trees with eyes
as she prowls my feet
she throws back her dress and cries,
"Now you be mine,
be my lion"