Luyện nghe bài hát Garbage

The goes, same window different visual.

of wax, or wing of gold leaf
Choose one. Float or 20 thousand cold legues
My nourishment's provided in the
So I wonder
How y'all chasin' dreams when what's tangible outruns ya
dirty doll immaculate performance
Warm as the march of a billion torches forward to what I born at
Cut and paste alertness to current set is quick
Shimmy the pirate ship mast, bat the eyelids at the in her bow (?)
Facing, salute the embrace pertinent generals who turned innocent hermits to burning spectacles.
with a serpent workin' overtime
Drain the battery, the poison and flood his majesty's hatchery.
I was on the yellow bus to where the brush thickens.
Yeah, an it ain't exactly pickin's
I'd rather take the time to burn every last bridge I've ever beneath the sun
Than live my life knowin' you may one day me over one.
Snake
too heavy to hold.
Caught up in the wake of the red tryin' to swim it.
Ran for the sake of dead click stripped of image
Steal a sloppy earth feed my pottery wheel to model collossal vision
Thrill, shrunken a bucket of pennies
I'ma drag my sneakers through the dirt alligator bellies
the cloud burst
Honour and a loud submersed in a trap
Little boy verse' thunderclap

In a city of garbage, to reap the harvest
Adaption is the trap in which the meets the forest
Swing your little axe or be an oak if you can
Either way, adapt to circumstance or you final hand.

No enigma, an to bury the hatchet
Rendered me victim of deviltry plus wounded like
somethin hazardous
I smell an inch of differnce in this mornin's pollution pistons and how the loose ends in
My sour pash (?) institutions slipped in admidst the and,
my tone but,
This garden's grown fucken' acres my visit.
Itchin' to count the layers in the blizzard to that chapter where my family inserts the and twists it.
It's the carnival, you any sweets for my weary kin
It's the carnival, have you any for my cheery grin
It's the carnival, welcome, play our games never win
Coz it's that where every freak show spectacle's your friend.
An' I'm a,
Ghostly galleon, tossed upon seas
to glacier cookin' a look of fiery nature
the,
Ceilin' too heavy to bless the I-beams for a fraction more collapse (I left sorry) that to your door.
my back to hell's kitchen, back
Burnin' murder machinery, regardless of the pardons
Hitchin my life to the leash of one
Sick of same window different
Same hostage different ritual
Play, coopertive supercolony clash (I heard we have a collection - let me see it)
Ooh, I duel this underdog verse forced to the marbles of the now
then my knuckles haven't once dragged on the ground.

In a city of garbage, tryin' to reap the
Adaption is the trap in which the artist the forest
your little axe or be an oak tree if you can
Either way, to circumstance or play you final hand.

The ritual goes, same different visual.
The ritual is same fucken' different visual.