Luyện nghe bài hát Crows 1

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

4 and 20 pantone black crows shredding innards
The silouettes are lefty scissors
horn and hoof as own arpeggiators
They piggy back the tombs of all your friends and neighbors
By the getty image, green-cheese
Dead-of-winter shit, tchk! tchk!
Shifter shit, brother was a card
Crown like a heart-shaped tunnel of woven branches leaning in over his hydro-plaining car chase...
up let me isolate the bass more
Gate of god's
Aim to rake the snow off forsaken name here
closure'l free the vipers out the bosom
Personally I think it's a bunch of
Prisoners, tradition is for
God forbid he flip the witch against her coven on some dip or the dozens
Now I skips in larvae and dental records
On a little pregnant with 6 million sentenceenders
And the tech support for tragedy's emphatically
Teenage operators explaining what breath is
Pass, I wish it were something I diagram on a napkin so you won't feel so detached if it should happen to you privately
Publicly your shadows'll cat back
Happy to split the eye and burlap doll
the crypt
Bats eject like death's wing-ed Iapdogs ricocheting sonar of the sacrilege
Now let me this whole shit down for all you half-goat cowards
I'll even my teeth for you
I am so completely off the god-damn grid it's not a question of me, I
T's "what do these symbols under the 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 science or cinematic horrors
Fast forward, my in the gut of a glass
"remember that cow in the seems awkward
And I know your people pints to the same 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 relates to whatever you have found among a thousand cloned shrines, either way - stone lion

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

Everything you you're hiding shows
In the way you view the graves like a string of thrones
Messages you'd away for keeps has resurfaced to be heard amidst the butchery and beaks
You want the passengers to pass
You want each cow fatter than the last
Mausoleum is a rush
While it might enhance a it might expose a crutch
A proud chest puffed to the
Holds nothing if we're cutting past the muscle and the
And we be cutting past the muscle and the tendon...