Luyện nghe bài hát Folk Song

It's picking up the pieces is a daily chore
Thinking of time card forms a habit
rick folks on T.V.'s like picking a sore
Fuck it all, can have it
And now I'm loaded like a gun
Like a plague of locusts heaven
Just a ball of with a death perception
I sweat the definition of content

They said "better than sorry" and "look out for #1"
I heard "only play the your shown"
Fuck they say
It doesn't anyway
Only in your grave are you

grown men staring with little boy's eyes
And actresses speaking with
These people should demand a prize
For various works of

"Judge a by it's cover"
And "keep one eye on back"
I heard "only play the your shown"
I say fuck what say
It matter anyway
Only in your grave are you

So many with so much to show
Rotting in their own little holes
One can only why
celebrate my home
But that I'm not alone
fools are "along for the ride"
In think of the size Of the that's right outside
don't waste it trying to hide