Luyện nghe bài hát Fly Boy Blue / Lunette

It's a ballet
Air traffic
I'm having a
thoughts, scotch, dinner
And someone's on the box
A MP
And no one was

My oldest friends are a habit
Fly boy blue, so bring your home,
To my sweet
And acres of crash love

Someone's on the box
A MP
And no one was
My oldest are a serious habit
Fly boy blue, so bring your home
To my trampoline
And acres of crash site

Presidential
Suppose I'm lucky
I'm a shin dig
Me, Red Bob and the host
And someone's on the box
A prefect gone Godzilla
My friends have forgotten my name
But so have I, so far so and home
You and me trampoline and oceans of crash love

can be said of the cigarette smokes
A for a joke or a mark on the clock
If I stopped the bus ever come
Would the dawn ever kiss me, me, knowing what's done
Would the drivel make scribble make and then song
the woodbines denied like the northern man's thumbs
Perverse as it may sound I sometimes
The tip to my lips just me to breathe

What can be said of the and wine
Random abandon or for joy
was scuppered with trust, little more than a boy
And besides I'm in company
I'm reaching the age when are made
On life and and I'm sure last ditch
That'll I'll ask for more
But forgive me
I'll still want a of good Irish whiskey and a bundle of smokes in my grave

But there isn't words yet for the I get
From the gentle lunette at the top of the nape of the neck that I to

And are the words for the leap in my chest
When mischief appears either side of the scar on your
Made by a rose thorn, so you
By a thorn