Luyện nghe bài hát Distortion

But I believe in ghosts or anything
I that you are gone and that
I'm carrying some version of you
Some old description in my memories
That must be ghost taking form
Created 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 over
That a point where we no longer get to say or do anything
And what? I guess just forgotten
I said to my mom that I hoped to do something important with my
Not be famous, but remembered a little more
To beyond my actual end
My mom laughed at this kid to wriggle his way out of mortality
Of the final feral scream
But I held hope and grew up wondering what dying means
Unsatisfied, and squirming

The first dead body I ever saw in real life was my
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 and a shadow
With a backpack and a
But dead body next to me spoke clear and metaphor-free

In 2001
having spent the summer and fall traveling mostly alone around
The country that was spiraling war
and mania, flags were everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a twenty year old
up in doing what I wanted and
it was music and on newsprint
Sleeping in yards asking permission and eating all the fruit
From the tree like Tarzan or Whitman,
voracious, life, singing my song
But December I was shaken by a pregnancy scare
From who I'd been with for only one night
Many states away, who I hadn't planned to keep
A young and embarrassing over-confident night
The terror of the of fatherhood
at twenty three destroyed my
And left me out and wandering around
Mourning the independence and solitude that me then
Though my is a galaxy of subtleties
My intentions and aspirations do not matter at all
In the of the crushing flow of actual time
I saw my as sad and misunderstood
In the same way that my will squint back through a fog
Trying to see polluted version of all I meant to be in life
Their recollections pruned by the of time
got thrown away and what gets talked about at night
But she had her period
and I went to being twenty three

Eleven years later I was alone again
On an airplane from New Zealand to Perth, Australia
Very alone, so far from you and the home that we had made
I watched a movie on the about Jack Kerouac
A documentary going deeper than the usual
interviewed his daughter,
Jan Kerouac, and she tore the history
She told about deadbeat drinking, watching Three Stooges on TV
Not his paternity, abandoning the child
Taking cowardly refuge in his
When she spoke I heard your voice telling me about the who had
you as a sweet kid and left you to grow precariously
And when she spoke I in her face and saw you looking back at me
On a tiny seat screen at the bottom of the world
I saw a French-Canadian
And I heard suffering
A lineage of bad parents and strong withstanding
She had black hair and freckles and pale skin like you
And she told the hard truth and slayed the gods just you
I saw the cracks in the of posterity
I missed you so I home

The second dead body I ever saw was you,
When I watched you turn alive to dead right here in our house
I looked around the and asked "Are you here?"
And you weren't, and you are not here. I to you though
I keep you breathing through my
In a constant uncomfortable stream of trailing 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 distortion
And then the of space
The Palace
The blurring
But in my tears now
gleams