Luyện nghe bài hát Bridges, Squares

As i walked to square,
and crossed the basin there,
the was black, the sky was blue,
the view was old, the was new.
and past the constricted mouth,
lines flowed mostly south,
or east across a sea,
rising soon, the star would be.
the are moved by sun and moon.
the spring will last march to june.
the red train will pass behind,
as long as bridge stream and sky.
and from point where i did stand,
i wondered at the of man.
i wondered how walk began,
til red line train came again.
but it's not the to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in your faith or apostasy.
not the end of history.
as i can take, so i give,
if i could shop where i live.
as i can read, so i'd books,
if i could eat i could cook
where talkers a place to meet,
walkers walk along the street,
and travel paths well hid,
but ferries you off the grid.
and it's not the to ossify.
it's not the end of why.
it's not in your faith or apostasy.
not the end of... predicatble waves of historicity,
nostalgia for gas-lit time i'll see,
manifest, internationalists.
connected are the and waterways
the living waves of harbor nights and days.
and where is the
was there missed?
hidden in the plans to the bridge started this?
but it's not the to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in faith or your apostasy.
not the end of history.
as i on to founders' square,
and crossed the river there,
the was grey, the sky was blue,
the was old, the view was new.
and that point where i did stand,
i at the builder's plan.
i how this walk will end.
til train came around again.
but not the time to ossify.
not the end of wondering why.
it's not in your faith or apostasy.
not the end of history.