Luyện nghe bài hát Bridges, Squares

As i to kendall square,
and the river basin there,
the was black, the sky was blue,
the was old, the bridge was new.
and past the flow's mouth,
commercial flowed mostly south,
or east a boundless sea,
where rising soon, the would be.
the tides are by sun and moon.
the spring will from march to june.
the red line will pass behind,
as long as bridge joins and sky.
and from point where i did stand,
i at the works of man.
i wondered how walk began,
til red train came round 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 where i could
where talkers have a to meet,
walkers walk along the street,
and subways travel well hid,
but take you off the grid.
and not the time to ossify.
it's not the end of why.
not in your faith or your apostasy.
it's not the end of... 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 is the builder?
was there something
hidden in the plans to the that started this?
but 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 history.
as i on to founders' square,
and crossed the basin there,
the was grey, the sky was blue,
the bridge was old, the was new.
and that point where i did stand,
i wondered at the plan.
i wondered how this walk end.
til path came around again.
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.