Luyện nghe bài hát A Map of All Our Failures

I'm unaware of a
From my dark red soul
Too deep to be spoken
I bury a right in my heart

etched the tall windows
I been cold for a long time
Borne winters shoulders

There are wolves here, of them
I am staggered at their of me

I lie in complete
I call the moths to me
I forget the of my sins

And drained of motion, the air itself me
And of notion, unable to perceive
Mouth barely open, almost to breathe
And is no other sound at all

there, to the left, his shadow rose
I always he was coming
the vacant chair beside me
With golden hands he the hair from my face