Luyện nghe bài hát Garbage

The ritual goes, same window visual.

Wing of wax, or wing of gold
Choose one. Float or plummet 20 thousand cold
My nourishment's in the summer
So that I
How y'all chasin' dreams when tangible still outruns ya
Hail dirty immaculate performance
Warm as the march of a billion forward to burn what I born at
Cut and paste alertness to current set is quick
Shimmy the pirate mast, bat the eyelids at the siren in her bow (?)
Facing, salute the embrace pertinent generals who turned innocent hermits to burning spectacles.
with a serpent workin' overtime
Drain the battery, siphon the and flood his majesty's hatchery.
I was riding on the yellow bus to the brush thickens.
Yeah, an it exactly plush pickin's
I'd rather take the time to burn every last I've ever crossed beneath the sun
live my life knowin' you may one day follow me over one.
Snake
Breath too to hold.
Caught up in the wake of the red witch to swim it.
Ran for the sake of dead click stripped of image
Steal a sloppy earth meal feed my wheel to model collossal vision
Thrill, shrunken with a of pennies
I'ma my sneakers through the dirt like alligator bellies
'Til the cloud
Honour and a thirst submersed in a trap
drummer boy verse' thunderclap

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

No enigma, an to bury the hatchet
Rendered me victim of deviltry wounded like stigmatics
Somethin's hazardous
I smell an inch of differnce in this mornin's pistons and how the loose ends drift in
My pash (?) institutions slipped in admidst the invaders and,
my tone but,
This garden's fucken' acres since 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, have you any for my weary kin
the carnival, have you any feed 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 cloudy
Antifreeze to glacier a look of fiery nature
the,
Ceilin' feelin' too heavy to bless the I-beams for a more collapse (I left sorry) that to your door.
Bitchin' my to hell's kitchen, back
Burnin' machinery, released regardless of the pardons
my life to the leash of one minstrel
Sick of window different visual
Same hostage different ritual
Play, coopertive supercolony clash (I heard we have a dust - let me see it)
Ooh, I duel this underdog verse adaption to the marbles of the now
Since then my knuckles once dragged on the ground.

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

The ritual goes, window different visual.
The ritual is same window different visual.