Luyện nghe bài hát At Last

He was a songwriter, songs about a girl.
She was a ghostwriter, to the world.

And in anticipation,
of a day she had written
and by her own she'd
be up, kissed, and twirled.

He was a fearful boy, watchful of the earth, worried it might split apart and he wouldn't hear it first.
And he'd be caught in some position, like a broken old physician, and worst of all he that it would hurt.

He's pouring his heart out, is gonna come of that? So when can he finally say, at last, at last, at last, at last,
oh i you'd never ask.

Oh, 700 letters, she them all.
Dated them and them, and then hid them down below.

She would always them, once a year she'd read them, each time she'd be thinking, somehow, he must know.

She's pouring her heart out, is nothing gonna come of that? So when can she finally say, at last, at last, at last, at last, oh i thought you'd ask.

Outside of his apartment, the was blanketed in mist, she stood looking up at his light and thinking what it meant.
It that he was in there breathing, what was it he was thinking? It was of her she wished she wished.

They're pouring their hearts out, is nothing come of that? So when can they finally say, at last, at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you'd never ask

At last, at last, at last, at last,
Oh I thought never ask.