Luyện nghe bài hát Pacemaker

Juveniles, hide your mags
The got problems at her yard
So she's packing up her bags of rags
Her man got down Po Na Na
the madre still in the kitchen
Smokes a fags

Body bags come on planes from war torn Iraq
It's the stark naked truth, a dark
Baby T, the juice and the dog barks
Remember man the bully had the last laugh

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

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

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

From Trafalgar Square where the crack pipe
To in your dark damp flat, the leaking
You fell in love when you started chatting
But got so bored 'cause she never stopped

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

Pretty please me, oh, easy on the eye
Some say that today only the good 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 moseying this bar?
You started your race, Cockerel wants his money back
Give up the man he's a and nut bar

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

Well, we heard this before your song got sung
Get a grip son, 'Cause you're always drunken
We're not captains skivvy sunken
Humdrum drum, drum, live die young

Mr. Skin stumbling, the road
And on the private property
Remember back then it was the ranter
Young sons watched their young Pa's get

Sandy crying out for he missed her
Missed her so that he went drank the brewery
So sing-a-long Sam this is a about you
We all out and we got pissed-ola

I wanna fight, he's a right big cunt
But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my
Well, it's all a bit of fun 'til someone done
But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my

Well, I'm likely to pick up and run
But the fellas say, 'Go on my son, my
Ah fuck it, well, he's a right big
But I'll him one, fuck that, run, run