Luyện nghe bài hát Distortion

But I don't in ghosts or anything
I know that you are and that
I'm carrying some version of you
Some untrustworthy old in my memories
That be your ghost taking form
every moment by me dreaming you so
Is it my job now to hold whatever's of you for all time?
And to you for our daughter's life?

I do
When I was a kid and realized that life ends and is just
That a point comes where we no get to say or do anything
And then what? I guess just
I said to my mom I hoped to do something important with my life
Not be famous, but just remembered a more
To echo beyond my end
My mom laughed at kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality
Of the inescapable final feral
But I held that hope and up wondering what dying means
Unsatisfied, and squirming

The first dead body I saw in real life was my great-grandfather's
Embalmed in a casket in in a room by the freeway
they talked me into reading a thing from the bible
About through a valley in the shadow of death
But I understand the words
I thought of actually walking through a valley and a
With a and a tent
But that dead body next to me spoke clear and

In 2001
After having spent the and fall traveling mostly alone around
The country was spiraling into war
and mania, flags were everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a twenty three old
Wrapped up in doing what I and
it was music and on newsprint
Sleeping in yards without asking permission and eating all the
From the tree like Tarzan or Whitman,
voracious, life, singing my song
But December I was shaken by a pregnancy scare
From someone who I'd been for only one night
states away, who I hadn't planned to keep knowing
A young and over-confident animal night
The terror of the idea of
at twenty destroyed my foundation
And left me freaked out and around
Mourning the independence and solitude defined me then
Though my life is a galaxy of
My intentions and aspirations do not matter at all
In the face of the crushing flow of actual
I saw my ancestors as sad and
In the same way that my will squint back through a fog
Trying to see some version of all I meant to be in life
Their recollections pruned by the accidents of
What got thrown away and what gets about at night
But she had her eventually
and I went back to twenty three

Eleven years later I was traveling again
On an from New Zealand to Perth, Western Australia
Very alone, so far away from you and the home that we had
I watched a movie on the plane about Kerouac
A documentary deeper than the usual congratulations
interviewed his daughter,
Jan Kerouac, and she tore the history
She told about this deadbeat drinking, Three Stooges on TV
Not his paternity, abandoning the child
cowardly refuge in his self-mythology
When she spoke I your voice telling me about the adults who had
Abandoned you as a kid and left you to grow precariously
And she spoke I looked in her face and saw you looking back at me
On a tiny airplane seat screen at the of the world
I saw a French-Canadian
And I heard echoing
A lineage of bad parents and strong daughters
She had hair and freckles and pale skin just like you
And she the hard truth and slayed the gods just like you
I saw the in the facade of posterity
I missed you so I home

The second dead body I ever saw was you,
When I watched you turn from alive to dead right in our house
I looked around the room and "Are you here?"
And you weren't, and you are not here. I to you though
I keep you through my lungs
In a constant uncomfortable stream of memories out
Until I am too
And then eventually all the people who remember me will die
Containing what it was like to stand in the same air me
And and wonder why

And then
And the silence of space
The Night
The blurring
But in my right now
Light