Luyện nghe bài hát Distortion

But I don't believe in or anything
I know that you are gone and
I'm some version of you around
untrustworthy 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 left of you for all
And to reenact you for our life?

I do
I was a kid and realized that life ends and is just over
That a point comes where we no get to say or do anything
And then I guess just forgotten
I said to my mom that I hoped to do important with my life
Not be famous, but just remembered a more
To echo beyond my end
My mom at this kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality
Of the inescapable final feral
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 Everett in a by the freeway
Where they talked me into reading a thing the bible
walking 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 to me spoke clear and metaphor-free

In 2001
After having spent the summer and fall traveling mostly alone
The country that was into war
and mania, flags were everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a twenty year old
Wrapped up in doing I wanted and
it was music and painting on
in yards without asking permission and eating all the fruit
From the like Tarzan or Walt Whitman,
voracious, devouring life, my song
But that December I was shaken by a pregnancy
From someone who I'd been with for only one
Many states away, who I hadn't planned to keep
A and embarrassing over-confident animal night
The terror of the of fatherhood
at three destroyed my foundation
And left me freaked out and around
the independence and solitude that defined me then
Though my life is a of subtleties
My complex intentions and aspirations do not at all
In the face of the crushing of actual time
I saw my ancestors as sad and
In the same way that my descendants will back through a fog
Trying to see some polluted version of all I to be in life
Their recollections pruned by the of time
What got away and what gets talked about at night
But she had her eventually
and I went back to being three

Eleven years I was traveling alone again
On an from New Zealand to Perth, Western Australia
Very alone, so far away you and the home that we had made
I watched a movie on the about Jack Kerouac
A going deeper than the usual congratulations
They his daughter,
Jan Kerouac, and she through the history
She told this deadbeat drinking, watching Three Stooges on TV
Not acknowledging his paternity, the child
Taking cowardly in his self-mythology
When she spoke I heard your voice me about the adults 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 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 cracks in the of posterity
I missed you so I home

The dead body I ever saw was you, Geneviève
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 my lungs
In a constant stream of memories trailing out
I am dead too
And then eventually all the people who remember me will die
Containing what it was to stand in the same air with me
And and wonder why

And then
And then the of space
The Palace
The ocean
But in my tears now
gleams