Luyện nghe bài hát Confessions of the Rich Young Ruler

Feel like a in a strange land
and depressed, guess it isn't what I had planned
Can't all the brands and the logos
the Logos is a no-go—no, the truth
Doesn't sell, not too
me why I'm fetching books from the self-help section of hell

(And every like a death knell)

Unfit for the world
selling something, got to sell yourself to get the girl
Look at me, look at me, my C.V.
Are you a Mac or a PC?
So it easy on the Francis of Assisi
Don't really see the if it don't please me

Listless at
What if I don't feel merry? Bit to think
I can't 'cause I can't solve the missing link
ink like I'm on the brink—jump and sink
Where's Are my ears so flawed that the Word's unheard?
Nah, He doesn't wink

from the issues calling for tissues
Refugees, mass shootings, and the planet we misuse
And the sick news continues into venues
What's on the menu?
If I retreat from all links and tweets, would that offend you?
Don't really care what you share about the darkness out there if you're to the demons within you

Confessions of a twenty-something who's depressed
Took my restless heart to God—where's my
Just trying to be like the Psalmist
I'm not the guy, I'm not the calmest
Promised joy, but I'm
You can call me Jacob's ladder 'cause I'm up and down, and frown
Pound for pound, no match for Old Scratch when unbound

I thought the couldn't hurt you
Then I took the red pill and I read After
Don't mean to be a grump, words, in a slump
Modern thought got more fluff than the hair on Donald
And the come and go
Michelangelo
But they mean the ninja turtle, and I know
I don't know

Excuse my muse losing
Eternal sunshine of the whine—hope you don't mind
My sound and fury not as purely as the Bard's
But angst is soarin' high as Kierkegaard's
Used to I had a trail, now I bushwhack
How can I wrestle God if He doesn't back?

Feel like a in a strange land
Twenty-something and depressed, guess it isn't I had planned
Can't stand all the and the logos
While the is a no-go—no, the truth
sell, not too well
Tell me why I'm books from the self-help section of hell

(And every bell's a death knell)