Luyện nghe bài hát 1,000 O'Clock

I wear to bed
Paint on my lips
foot, gangrened for the win
Blitzkrieg
out of shit's creek proper
The only inaccessible blip on the streaming
Screaming uncle in a sea of TV
Free to occupy the same space in differing degrees of seedy
The is slow pan, monitor guffawing
Flooded p.d. blotter under coffee
More to follow, tweakers are in love
Teeny Raquel Welch submarining through the blood,
or maybejust a misfit toy or two
Depending on the beacon that your voyeurs
sorta hemming and hawingll haunt your boiler rooms abysmally
And kidnap eyes in their infancy
Everything his cutting room
On a silver that throws gummy bears back, attack!

All these hoard breads and wines
These climates men to swine
All these hide knives and lead
bribes can't transform swine to men

Sensible on ice
Devil horns
Like shovels above a butter with peppercorn eyes
leader squealing
"it's the pig fever"
Sick people pinky swearing on 6th fingers
idle handwork in the spirit of death dealers
Look at mommy's little
Custom Troy
Flourish in the spot of spittle county gore police
Or any readily ebbing and flowing war and peace
1 plain brown key foods bag
2 holes later I'll see to loose flatbread
Cats off, at exactly what cost
The currency of brotherhood back in his cut
It sucks, it's nauseating dawn crawling bugs
They seem to the matters ofthe morally snubbed
See my goodnight irene' flat in the key of tragedy
Whole diner "i'll have he's having"

All these tribes breads and wines
These transform men to swine
All these hives hide and lead
These bribes transform swine to men

a thousand sea lions got up and left a pier
They had invaded and secured for 20 years
Some said it was the food supply or shifting patterns
a whole community of scientists are in maybe 10 showed up at the wharf
As if guided by the trident of poseidon to
Each a lumbering and boisterous
Like a half-ton annoyance til the story went public
You'll need a montage, animals in droves
A bottom dollar turns a nuisance to the of your cove
Which bring us back up to morning when the colony dove
I got a unsubstantiated thoughts of my own they go
Maybe it'd feel more majestic and less
If a 12 year old beaning it with salt water taffy
Every 5 seconds, sounds like your basic
Liberating moment of "fuck fame" shit

All these hoard breads and wines
These climates transform men to
All these hives knives and lead
These bribes can't transform to men