Luyện nghe bài hát Consequence of Sounds

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

The consonants and
The of sounds
The and vowels
The of sounds

Got a in my mind,
All the time.
Screamin' too much beat up
And they don't rhyme,
They just there, on a street corner,
tucked in
And meat out and shot,
And I'd like to them down
But there no knob.
Run into fences
Not picket lines.
All this hippie-shit for the
And clich for our time. But,
But a one of these days heart
Will stop ticking,
And they sorta just don't find you your cubicle is reeking.

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

Did you know that the gravedigger's
Gettin' stuck in the
Even tough a whole other daydream.
It's another town another world,
Where the kids are asleep, the loans are paid
And the are mowed.
Whad'ya
All the gravediggers gone?
Just one song is done
There's always one,
Waiting right the bend,
Till one ends,
it begins
Sqeaky clean, then it all over again.

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

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

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

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