Luyện nghe bài hát Cool Band Buzz

They want to hear good with sarcasm of Woody Allen
Their own oil rigs
They're some spoiled kids who I must aim to please
And so I'm in a syrup vat
And you know this town is a tourist
Run by entertainment and the bureaucrats
Selling the ultimate freeze
This I'm Sambo
I'm on the Channel
I'm and reading my parchment of prose
I talk of the man and of the promised land
But I'm insincere and make the doze
My head was a jar of lit
I used to make viewers carsick at
But now I'm the most compromising slut
Oh, it's to keep this harlot clothed
I and do more than schmooze
I start toes
Underground smell like garlic cloves
But me, I'm smug and
obscenely to appear at a set event
Companies license my
Money, it my flighty fits
I wrote the great American pop song stylized to my tiny niche

I wasn't invited to your
I've got no plus one and a low fund
I never to ever win big
I never for you to open my press kit

The attendance is subpar when I perform at a club or bar
Why did I choose to do weird
I steered my career off a cliff in a flaming car
So now I'm down a bottomless pit
But I'm trying to be
I spin microwaveable
But the label prorates
My arms are to cotton with
Look at the poignant portraits in my sketch
Meaning and art exude with every stroke
But my promises of revolution are threats
I'm so over sensitive my is bloodsoaked
I'll African dance and cast a voodoo hex while in dorm spilling all the bong water
And count the stars in the nebula until a goggleplex selling you sticks of nag champa
I dumbfound in the shop
Looking Jean-Michel Basquiat
And kill pop with dirty laundry smell
all foolhardy
Leaving oddly distraught
Gentle laughter when I'm telling jokes at dead pool party
I am a necromancer of an exquisite
I'll cry ten minutes in your wet tennis because I wasn't invited