Luyện nghe bài hát Consequence of Sounds

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

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

Got a in my mind,
All the time.
Screamin' from too beat up
And they even rhyme,
just stand there, on a street corner,
Skin in
And meat out and shot,
And I'd like to turn down
But ain't no knob.
Run picket fences
Not picket lines.
All hippie-shit for the 60's
And another for our time. But,
But a one of these your heart
Will just ticking,
And they sorta don't find you till your cubicle is reeking.

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

Did you know the gravedigger's still
Gettin' stuck in the
Even it's a whole other daydream.
It's another town it's world,
Where the kids are asleep, where the are paid
And the are mowed.
think?
All the gravediggers were
Just one song is done
always another one,
Waiting around the bend,
Till one ends,
it begins
Sqeaky clean, then it all over again.

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

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

My ain't good just yet,
My brain and just met,
And aint friends, so far,
My words travel far,
They in my hair,
And to go nowhere,
They grow right 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 my skin
They sit festering inside my bowels

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