Luyện nghe bài hát Crows 1

Birds of a
Black stick together forever and ever and they always remember you
And all of the you do
They pass it to the baby birdies and they remember too
Little baby bluebird eyes black
Without forgetting the face of the guy in the
When you see me baby you scream or will you laugh?
Little baby blue bird, eyes black

4 and 20 gory black crows shredding innards
The silouettes are lefty scissors
Separating horn and hoof as own
They piggy back the tombs of all your deadest friends and
By the image, green-cheese moon
shit, graveyard tchk! tchk!
Shifter shit, brother was a card
Crown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his pace car chase...
Wait up let me isolate the bass
Gate of acre
Aim to rake the snow off forsaken name here
Supposedly closure'l free the out the bosom
Personally I think a bunch of bullshit
Prisoners, is for lovers
God he flip the witch against her coven on some dip or play the dozens
Now I skips in larvae and dental records
On a little pregnant with 6 million sentenceenders
And the tech for tragedy's emphatically horrendous
Teenage operators explaining bated breath is
Pass, I wish it were I could diagram on a napkin so you won't feel so detached if it should happen to you privately
your shadows'll cat call back
Happy to split the eye and burlap doll
the crypt
Bats eject like cousin wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilege
Now let me slow this whole down for all you half-goat cowards
I'll grit my teeth for you
I am so off the god-damn grid it's not a question of addressing me, I
T's "what do these under the dresser mean"
Perhaps a little dash of karma chameleons through the for good/young
Could've a good lung
Still, to corpses wasn't nothing to the kid but unforgiving science or cinematic horrors
forward, my knee in the gut of a glass
"remember that cow in the seems awkward
And I know your people donated pints to the same pavement but for ash and bone to share a space with seems outrageous, ain't it?
Maybe a dialog of howls that reshapes thejowls and face somehow relates to whatever you have found among a thousand cloned shrines, either way - dope lion

And they to let you know your friend is dead in a box
The crows the tools to get the meat out of the box
Scientific, ritualistic, headstone cold foxes rot
I'm not rot, no, fuck that snot
You can let let you rot, man
But I'm not to watch
I'm not gonna stand your plot
I love you friends, but I'm not
On the other hand if your are scattered in the sea
I will swim in the sea and be with me
And if your shit is scattered at the of a tree
I climb that tree

Everything you think you're shows
In the way you view the like a string of tiny thrones
Messages you'd tucked away for keeps has to be heard amidst the butchery and beaks
You don't the passengers to pass
You want each cow taxidermy'd fatter the last
Mausoleum is a rush
While it might enhance a it might expose a crutch
A proud chest to the heavens
nothing if we're cutting past the muscle and the tendon
And we will be cutting past the and the tendon...