Luyện nghe bài hát At Last

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

And in anticipation,
of a day that she had
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 nothing gonna come of that? So when can he say, at last, at last, at last, at last,
oh i you'd never ask.

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

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

She's 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 never ask.

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

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

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