Luyện nghe bài hát Dragon

You don't care
for you is no beginning
You're not really

I thought you listening

I you were listening

I understand you think above it
The sense of the sky
The of billowing heartbeats
The fingertips run your hair
run through your hair


Oh you think so special
there's no law meant for you
You come and go the goddess you are
We're mere mortals
Fingertips run through hair
We are mere below
Are to be peons
Are to be servants
Are to be dismissible objects
One fucks
One fucks
Poor pitiful
The winner in
The in caring
The in every miniscule method of wearing
heart on your sleeve
A red star of
An idiocy
My, my for you
for you
Do you think a book
Some of a table
You can rest your feet on you're able
Red star of
An idiocy
My for you
Poor pitiful
To the pining
The self
The self of you
worshippers
We do like you
We do like you
We do love to look upon your perfect
The on your shoulders
The of your armpit
The of your vulva and everything on it
We all love you
And you no meaning
You don't see us
You were caring
You go do you do
You do it for you
No one with you
You're way above
Leave a trail the wake
That no one ever to take
Because for you
of you
Is way of dying
Is way of dying
I'm your chest
'Til your bleeds
Piercing your nipples 'til I bite off
I scratch face and bite your shoulders
Way above
Way caring
And your Kotex
Your jukebox
I'm doomed, I'm
for you
In your heels and nightie
Your dress squeaking
now sweating, waiting for you
In your
Your opium bathrobe
white tiles run red now
Are we both now?
The exchange of our heart
The liquid of our heart
Are we dead now?
You're way above
heart on your sleeve
A red of idiocy
An idiocy
My
My for you
My for you
You're way beyond
Your heart on sleeve
A red star of
An idiot's
My for you
to caring
Oblivious to
Oblivious to
a trail upon the wake
That no one ever tries to
waiting for you
Because of you
Is another way of
You're way caring
Oblivious to
Oblivious to
You poor creature
The mistake of
The one who you is the winner,
true
The in heartbreak
The in caring
The winner in every miniscule of wearing
Your heart on sleeve
A red star of
An idiocy
Your heart on your fuckin'
My for you
We were to be peons
We're to be peons
mortals below
Meant to be
Meant to be objects one fucks with
Oh, oh, oh so special
No law for you
You come and go the goddess you are
The fingertips run through your
A heart beats


What a glorious
To be so
So
An idiot's
My for you
You think I'm a or a table
You can rest your feet on
you're able
The taste of your vulva, on it
The on your shoulders
The smell of armpit
We do love you, to upon your perfect body
We love you
We you haughty
Oblivious to
Oblivious to

Oh my
Oh my
Oh my
Oblivious to
Are we really dead
Are we both dead