Luyện nghe bài hát Destination

Our instruments have no way of measuring feeling
Can never cut below the floor, or the ceiling
In the space between our houses, some bones have been
But our procession on, as if we had recovered

Draconian winter
One day, suddenly you're old
Your envelope just makes me cold
Makes start to unfold

Our documents are useless, or forged believing
Page forty-seven is unsigned, I need it by evening
In the space between our cities, a storm is slowly
Something eating up our days, I feel it every

Destination,
Destination,
Destination,

not a religion, it's just a technique
It's just a way of you speak
Distance and have left us too weak
And destination looks kind of

Our elements are burned out, our beasts have been
I tell you the only way we'll get this road completed
In the space our bodies, the air has grown small fingers
one caress, you're powerless, like all those clapped-out swingers

Destination,
Destination,
Destination,