Luyện nghe bài hát Bed Bugs

Let's and talk on a slow street
Your guy is cross-eyed and
Looks at me like "now who the is he?"
And I tell you man I that I knew

Trash scavenged mattress and a bear
Bed crawl through your lovers hair
You got that thousand yard
I get just from talking to you

Drained sinking with the Argos son
Floating out on the freshman year run
It's so to have fun
but there to be a way to get through

All your amazed days
But all of the damn dogs, think that they've got it made
And no matter you say,
You know you are going to do it anyway, do it anyway, do it anyway

Knuckle tattoo says "I hate to
On another dickhead who me that I'm just too sensitive"
You can't tell to fuck off forever
be mortified when they finally do

You had a breakthrough on a shaky plane
Seated next to kid
so embarrassed by her dad's use of slang
And nobody gets to feel cool

And these days I'm only something if I'm swaying
That's the only time it doesn't feel I'm explaining
So if you see me and I to entertaining
I'm not singing I'm just to you

But you don't want a funeral unless everybody
And you want a kiss unless you're adequately numb
And you don't want to not even to say goodbye
And you don't want to share how in shadows all the time
And you don't to think about the people that you knew
a tug on your sleeve, they're an embarrassment to you
Just bones in the sun, just a decomposing rind
Just a sitcom aired before you even were alive
Your friends are full-length that you pull out of the garbage
Or orange juice soaked cotton balls to convince you, you starving
You need somebody to fuck, someone to call when you get
And some people to make wonder why they stick around
And now you don't want to drink, you say it feels the as water
And you don't actually even me, I just subconsciously remind you of your father
And his flannel that smelled liked cigarettes and rain
And a catalogue of things you wished never had to
But it's never quite like it was when you were a kid
Puffy eyes, play fight, bug bites, jiff butter, cinnamon toast crunch
Strawberry allergy, bee

All of the people are
But tomorrow the punks and the cops both have to eat
And whatever those say
You that you have got to do it anyway, do it anyway, do it anyway