Luyện nghe bài hát Cecilia And The Silhouette Saloon

murder = out.
cancer = blouse.
= perfect glass spouse.
oil = sex paint.
shower = saint.
decodes the howls from our hands.
skull = nest.
TV = test.
mirror = gun kiss.
= birth bait.
murder = fate.
death distills the camouflage our dance.
death inverts the red romance.
Death x-rays the of chance.
death; the mirror of infants.
Like a picture hiding the digital Avalanche.
When cecilia's grave cracked a dirt cacoon,
she up a stool at the silhouette saloon.
The player mumbling crippled jigs,
black widows knitting wigs.
When cecilia's slit like a second set of lips
she drooled braille bibles onto the bed spread,
like an egg whose yoke child bearing hips.
Like a ghost who all of the deceased and dead.
(time eats the flesh and out the shadow like a useless wishbone.)
But locket spinning around her neck,
whose heats a dead valentine,
you know the phantom trail way to a muted grave.
Where is his voice
A tone in the flutter of drunken wings,
Where is his cheek now,
A face in shadow, veiled in blind laughter.
Where are those sex lips,
his kiss still warm on several necks.
Where is now?

murder = out.
cancer = blouse.
= perfect glass spouse.
oil = sex paint.
shower = saint.
decodes the howls from our hands.
skull = nest.
TV = test.
mirror = gun kiss.
= birth bait.
murder = fate.
death distills the camouflage our dance.
inverts the red from romance.
Death x-rays the of chance.
the anti mirror of infants.
Like a picture hiding the digital Avalanche.