Luyện nghe bài hát Fugazi

Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a cell
the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to renew the
Of a bleeding heart poet in a fragile

Propping up the of the glitter conscience
Wrapped in the christening of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real, tears the real

in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race
Scuttling the damp electric labyrinth
(Caress Ophelia's with breaststroke ambition)
(An albatross in the marry tradition)

with the Walkman wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting conversation
(She turned the harpoon and it my heart)
(She hung around my neck)

From the time-life in their conscience bubbles
Safe and dry in my sea of
Nine to fives, with suitable

Cast adrift as their
(Sideshow)

(Peepshow)
Stereo becalm, be still, bewitch
Drowning, in the real

The of Baghdad hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his cow
A legacy of from a twilight world
The of a relative mystery girl

A flower, a dockland union
A of release from a magazine's thighs
contract more than favors
The feeding of western promise hold her by the throat

A son of the Swastika of '45, parading a peroxide
Graffiti disciples conjure of hatred
wands whisper where the searchlights
Trim the barbed hedges, this is Brixton chess

A knight for embankments folds his newspaper
A of habit, begs the boatman's coin
He'll fade with old soldiers in the stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's supper

Son watches scan obituary columns
In of absent school friends
While his generation digests fiber ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted

genocide
Provided door to door
box of holocausts
Gracefully cruising satellite heavens

Waiting, waiting the season of the
The migration
Radioactive perfumes for the
For the insane, insane

you realize
Do-do-do you
you realize
This world is totally

Where are the prophets, are the visionaries?
Where are the to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the
Where are the to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, are the visionaries?
are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?

Where are the