Luyện nghe bài hát Crows 1

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

4 and 20 gory pantone black crows shredding
The silouettes are fencing lefty
horn and hoof as own arpeggiators
They piggy back the tombs of all your deadest friends and
By the getty image, moon
Dead-of-winter shit, tchk! tchk!
Shifter shit, brother was a face
Crown like a tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his hydro-plaining pace car chase...
Wait up let me the bass more
of god's acre
Aim to rake the snow off each forsaken name
Supposedly closure'l free the out the bosom
I think it's a bunch of bullshit
Prisoners, tradition is for
God forbid he flip the witch against her on some dip or play the dozens
Now I baptize skips in larvae and dental
On a little plot pregnant with 6 sentenceenders
And the support for tragedy's emphatically horrendous
Teenage operators explaining what bated is
Pass, I wish it were something I could diagram on a napkin so you won't so detached if it should happen to you privately
Publicly your shadows'll cat back
Happy to split the eye and burlap doll
Crack the
Bats eject cousin death's wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilege
Now let me slow this whole shit down for all you 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 symbols the dresser mean"
Perhaps a little of karma chameleons through the entropy for good/young
Could've used a good
Still, proximity to corpses wasn't nothing to the kid but unforgiving or cinematic horrors
forward, my knee in the gut of a glass
"remember that cow in the dean's awkward
And I know your people donated pints to the pavement but for ash and bone to share a space with strangers seems outrageous, ain't it?
Maybe a dialog of howls that reshapes thejowls and face somehow to whatever you have found among a thousand cloned shrines, either way - dope stone lion

And they to let you know your friend is dead in a box
The have the tools to get the meat out of the box
Scientific, ritualistic, headstone foxes still rot
I'm not gonna rot, no, fuck snot
You can let let you rot, man
But I'm not going to
I'm not stand atop your plot
I you friends, but I'm just not
On the hand if your ashes are scattered in the sea
I will in the sea and you'll be with me
And if shit is scattered at the roots of a tree
I will climb tree

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