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 poet in a fragile capsule

Propping up the crust of the conscience
Wrapped in the shard of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real, from the real

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

Sheathed with the wear the halo of distortion
Aural contraceptive aborting pregnant
(She turned the and it pierced my heart)
(She hung herself my neck)

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

Cast as their sideshow
(Sideshow)

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

The thief of Baghdad hides in now
Praying deportation for his cow
A legacy of romance a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery

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

A son of the Swastika of '45, a peroxide standard
disciples conjure testaments of hatred
Aerosol whisper where the searchlights
Trim the wire hedges, this is Brixton chess

A knight for embankments folds his castle
A creature of habit, begs the coin
fade with old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the of Good Friday's last supper

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

genocide
Provided door to door
Pandora's box of
Gracefully cruising infested heavens

Waiting, the season of the button
The penultimate
perfumes for the fashionably
For the insane, insane

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

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

Where are the