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 on my skull
Another god
Tells me that I'm
A useless piece of shit with no to give at all now
And the smallest god up
Thinks that I'm the
Tells me no one could be as good as me.
I listen to them all, I was a disc jockey to
Little selling misery
I build a cocoon I got to get
A shirt made out of wood and glue and crack and then paint(????)
No one see ya down and no one's 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 is ringing, the walls are falling down
The city are singing, my soul's nowhere around
I have made a monster
I have myself again
I have eaten all my children, I tightened up my skin
I'm a crucifixion, I'm a fucked-up memory
in all that's left, I'm my mother's misery
I'm sucking on tit
milking me her pussy

I drink until I'm convinced no place left to go
You there's no place left to go (x4)
So I until the pain is dry
I it never is
Sometimes though, I guess I think that I'm the
the morning after when I wake up with the guilt
Of down all the things my sacred hands have built
And throwing out all the love you I never felt
Yeah, you know I felt (x4)
Let's make our Romeo's
help can be unique
You it on yourself
Burn out when you might
The Holy Ghost is exiled your heart and from your soul
If you it it's no fun, and if it's fun you've lost control
past is plagiarism
your symbols dried up
Your corruption's as
As old lovers you dug
Like hidden toxic fume
soul dissipates
In the of guilty acts with motive
All the things you
There's bodies dancing,
heat
Crazy in an
The way starving eat
Regrets weight overwhelms, and tired bodies
Bankrupt from the
split one more eight-ball
Blue as beggars, beaten,
Tired eyes of rust
And we all know it gets like this there's no one you can trust
No no no one you can trust(x4)
Some say the solution's in the sweat-box
I know
I've been there, I sold my keys to get a rock
We sing along to AM radio stations
And drink expensive wine, the friends that we left hanging
Like prisoners in
We heard through the
I know for sure trust no one who says' they've got you back
The windows all
Outside the noise pollution
Everyone's now hidden like in dark rooms
I've been brought back from the dead before, so anything can
Obsessed with tragic antics, down and out like Clapton
These are my years, I'm trying to enjoy the pain
The euphoria of
Toxins in my brain
We've all been of corruption
We've all been spiders on the
Waiting for a hand to smash us or the doom of light to
Is this of just self-hatred
Runnin' wild,
from a broken soul
Is this creation or a
Is this or a stain...