Luyện nghe bài hát Fly Boy Blue / Lunette

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

My oldest friends are a habit
Fly boy blue, so your faces home,
To my trampoline
And acres of crash site

dancing 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

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

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

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

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

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