Luyện nghe bài hát Consequence of Sounds

My rhyme ain't good yet,
My brain and tongue met,
And they friends, so far,
My don't travel far,
tangle in my hair,
And to go nowhere,
grow right back inside,
Right my brain and eyes
Into my juice
Where they serve much use,
No calories,
values.
And I back in
The right through my skin
They sit there festering my bowels

The consonants and
The consequence of
The consonants and
The of sounds

Got a in my mind,
All the time.
Screamin' from too beat up
And they even rhyme,
They just there, on a street corner,
Skin in
And side out and shot,
And I'd to turn them down
But ain't no knob.
Run into picket
Not picket lines.
All this hippie-shit for the
And another for our time. But,
But a one of days your heart
Will stop ticking,
And they sorta just don't find you till your is reeking.

The and vowels
The of sounds
The and vowels
The consequence of
Ahh ah ah ah ahh ah ah ah

Did you that the gravedigger's still
Gettin' in the machine
Even tough it's a whole daydream.
It's town it's another world,
Where the are asleep, where the loans are paid
And the are mowed.
think?
All the gravediggers gone?
Just cause one is done
There's always one,
Waiting right the bend,
this one ends,
Then it
Sqeaky clean, then it all over again.

The report keeps on
and turning,
and warning,
And and warning of,
it could be news publications and,
Possibly it could be TV stations. That
Very same morning right next to her
She noticed some bleeding and heard coughing and
National Geographic was too graphic,
When all she had to know was the traffic
"The worlds got a nosebleed" it
"And we're but we keep on cutting
The and the forests!"
And we on paying those freaks on the TV,
Who claim they save us but want to enslave us.
And sweating like demons scream through our speakers
But we the sound on 'cause silence is harder.
And no one's the and no one's the martyr
The world has made us can no longer contain us
And profits are silent then rotting away

The consonants and
The of sounds.
The consonants and
The of sounds.
Ah ah ah...

My ain't good just yet,
My brain and tongue met,
And they friends, so far,
My don't travel far,
tangle in my hair,
And to go nowhere,
They grow back inside,
past my brain and eyes
Into my juice
Where don't serve much use,
No calories,
values.
And I back in
The words right through my
sit there festering inside my bowels

The and vowels
The consequence of
The consonants and
The consequence of