Luyện nghe bài hát Creation or a stain

I got a god in my
me that I'm crazy
Got a god in my
Telling me I'm
An angry little god punching on my
Another god
me that I'm lazy
A useless piece of shit no love to give at all now
And the smallest god up
Thinks I'm the greatest
Tells me no one else be as good as me.
I listen to them all, I was a disc to consequences
Little propagandist misery
I a cocoon I got to get away
A shirt made out of wood and and crack and then some paint(????)
No one see ya down there and no getting in
I got a needle, a pack, a satchel, and a of country gin
I drink and shoot and smoke until the only I hear
Is the one telling me those other people, don't let anybody
No let anybody near (x4)
And now the telephone is ringing, the walls are falling
The birds are singing, my soul's nowhere around
I have made a monster
I damned myself again
I have eaten all my children, I have up my skin
I'm a walking crucifixion, I'm a memory
Consumed in all that's left, I'm my mother's
I'm on Satan's tit
milking me her pussy

I drink I'm convinced there's no place left to go
You know there's no place to go (x4)
So I drink until the is dry
I know it is
though, I guess I think that I'm the best
Until the morning after I wake up with the guilt
Of burning down all the my sacred hands have built
And throwing out all the you know I never felt
Yeah, you I never felt (x4)
Let's our tortured Romeo's
Personal help can be
You it on yourself
Burn out when you might
The Ghost is exiled from your heart and from your soul
If you control it it's no fun, and if it's fun lost control
Your is plagiarism
your have dried up
Your corruption's as
As old lovers you dug
Like hidden toxic fume
Your soul
In the of guilty acts with motive
All the things you
bodies dancing, crazed
Sexual
Crazy in an
The way starving eat
Regrets weight overwhelms, and tired fall
Bankrupt the beaten
split one more eight-ball
Blue as beggars, beaten,
Tired made of rust
And we all know when it like this there's no one you can trust
No no no one you can trust(x4)
Some say the locked in the sweat-box
I wouldn't
I've never been there, I sold my to get a rock
We along to forgotten AM radio stations
And drink expensive wine, the friends that we left hanging
prisoners in conceit
We heard the cracks
I know for sure don't trust no one who they've got you back
The windows all
Outside the noise booms
Everyone's now hidden cockroaches in dark rooms
I've brought back from the dead before, so anything can happen
Obsessed with tragic antics, down and out like Eric
These are my years, I'm trying to enjoy the pain
The euphoria of
wrestle in my brain
We've all been of corruption
all been spiders on the wall
Waiting for a to smash us or the doom of light to fall
Is this of just self-hatred
wild, uncontained
Leaking a broken soul
Is creation or a stain
Is creation or a stain...