Luyện nghe bài hát Pacemaker

Juveniles, hide porno mags
The girl's got problems at her
So packing up her bags full of rags
Her man got down Po Na Na
While the madre still in the
Smokes a 20-deck

Body bags come back on planes from war Iraq
It's the stark truth, a dark aftermath
Baby T, the juice and the dog just
Remember man the bully always had the laugh

It was a blast night down the old 12 Bar
White socks, shoes with the ballads in the car
a lump in a throat she won't understand
Twos on a cigarette it's all blah

Bloody obli obla dah glug down
Life goes on for all the day
Starts off small but it's get bigger
By the end of this it may all be better

Well, she's always with the who, where and how
The say, 'Ooh, la, la'
Well, if I had another I'd do it differently now
And the say, 'Ooh, la, la, la, la, la, la, la'

From Trafalgar Square where the pipe reeking
To in your dark flat, the ceiling's leaking
You fell in love when you first chatting
But got so 'cause she never stopped speaking

this son on the bad behavior
He's keeping all the freebies, the papers
You hate us, shake fakers
Oh, you'll never get nowhere, I'm the pacemaker

Pretty me, oh, she's easy on the eye
Some say that today only the young die
Ipee-oh-kai-yay, been right good day
I wanna ask questions but I don't to pry

How did you get to where going
To before you came slowly through this bar?
You started your race, Johny Cockerel wants his money
Give up the man he's a and nut bar

Oh, I gotta see the GP, up lungs
And the doc says, 'Stop or going die young'
I haven't even started to do what I
You don't listen, you just carry on

Well, we heard this when your song got sung
Get a grip son, why? you're always drunken
not captains just skivvy sunken
Humdrum drum, drum, fast die young

Mr. Skin stumbling, the rocky
And on the private property
Remember back then it was the ranter
Young sons watched their young get cancer

Vagabond Sandy crying out for he her
Missed her so much he went drank the brewery
So Sam this is a song about you
We all out and we got pissed-ola

I don't wanna fight, a right big cunt
But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my
Well, it's all a bit of fun 'til someone gets
But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my

Well, I'm more to pick up and run
But the say, 'Go on my son, my son'
Ah fuck it, well, a right big cunt
But knock him one, fuck that, run, run