Luyện nghe bài hát Distortion

But I don't believe in or anything
I know that you are gone and
I'm carrying some of you around
Some untrustworthy old in my memories
That must be ghost taking form
Created every moment by me you so
Is it my job now to hold whatever's left of you for all
And to reenact you for our daughter's

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

The first dead body I ever saw in real was my great-grandfather's
Embalmed in a in Everett in a room by the freeway
Where they talked me reading a thing from the bible
About walking through a in the shadow of death
But I didn't understand the
I thought of walking through a valley and a shadow
With a backpack and a
But that dead body to me spoke clear and metaphor-free

In 2001
After having spent the summer and fall traveling alone around
The that was spiraling into war
and mania, little flags everywhere
I was living on the periphery as a three year old
Wrapped up in what I wanted and
it was music and on newsprint
Sleeping in without asking permission and eating all the fruit
the tree like Tarzan or Walt Whitman,
voracious, devouring life, my song
But that December I was shaken by a pregnancy
someone 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 animal
The of the idea of fatherhood
at twenty three destroyed my
And me freaked out and wandering around
Mourning the and solitude that defined me then
my life is a galaxy 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 way that my descendants will squint back through a fog
to see some polluted version of all I meant to be in life
Their recollections pruned by the accidents of
What got away and what gets talked about at night
But she had her period
and I went back to being three

years later I was traveling alone again
On an from New Zealand to Perth, Western Australia
alone, so far away from you and the home that we had made
I watched a movie on the about Jack Kerouac
A documentary going deeper than the congratulations
They his daughter,
Jan Kerouac, and she tore through the
She told about this deadbeat drinking, watching Three on TV
Not acknowledging his paternity, abandoning the
Taking refuge in his self-mythology
When she spoke I heard your voice telling me about the who had
Abandoned you as a kid and left you to grow precariously
And when she spoke I looked in her and saw you looking back at me
On a airplane seat screen at the bottom of the world
I saw a French-Canadian
And I suffering echoing
A of bad parents and strong daughters withstanding
She had black hair and freckles and pale just like you
And she told the hard and slayed the gods just like you
I saw the cracks in the facade of
I missed you so I went

The second dead I ever saw was you, Geneviève
When I watched you turn from alive to dead right here in our
I looked the room and asked "Are you here?"
And you weren't, and you are not here. I sing to you
I you breathing through my lungs
In a constant stream of memories trailing out
I am dead too
And then eventually all the people who remember me also 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 Night
The blurring
But in my tears now
gleams