Luyện nghe bài hát Distortion

But I don't in ghosts or anything
I know that you are gone and
I'm carrying version of you around
untrustworthy old description in my memories
That be your ghost taking form
Created every by me dreaming you so
Is it my job now to hold left of you for all time?
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 important my life
Not be famous, but just a little more
To beyond my actual end
My mom laughed at kid trying to wriggle his way out of mortality
Of the final feral scream
But I held that and grew up wondering what dying means
Unsatisfied, and squirming

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

In December
After having the summer and fall traveling mostly alone around
The that was spiraling into war
and mania, little flags everywhere
I was living on the as a twenty three year old
Wrapped up in doing what I and
it was music and painting on
Sleeping in yards without asking permission and all the fruit
From the tree Tarzan or Walt Whitman,
voracious, life, singing my song
But that December I was by a pregnancy scare
From someone who I'd been with for only one
Many states away, who I hadn't to keep knowing
A young and embarrassing over-confident animal
The of the idea of fatherhood
at three destroyed my foundation
And left me freaked out and around
Mourning the independence and that defined me then
Though my life is a galaxy of
My complex intentions and 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 by the accidents of time
What got thrown away and what gets talked at night
But she had her eventually
and I back to being twenty three

Eleven later I was traveling alone again
On an airplane from New to Perth, Western Australia
Very alone, so far away you and the home that we had made
I watched a movie on the plane about Kerouac
A going deeper than the usual congratulations
interviewed his daughter,
Jan Kerouac, and she tore through the
She about this deadbeat drinking, watching Three Stooges on TV
Not his paternity, abandoning the child
Taking cowardly in his self-mythology
she spoke I heard 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 screen at the bottom of the world
I saw a French-Canadian
And I heard echoing
A lineage of bad parents and daughters withstanding
She had black hair and freckles and pale just like you
And she told the truth and slayed the gods just like you
I saw the cracks in the facade of
I you so I went home

The second body I ever saw was you, Geneviève
When I watched you turn from alive to dead right 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 uncomfortable stream of memories out
I am dead too
And then eventually all the people who me will also die
Containing what it was like to in the same air with me
And and wonder why

And distortion
And then the of space
The Night
The ocean
But in my tears now
Light