Luyện nghe bài hát Garbage

The ritual goes, window different visual.

Wing of wax, or wing of gold
one. Float or plummet 20 thousand cold legues
My nourishment's in the summer
So that I
How y'all chasin' dreams when what's still outruns ya
Hail dirty doll immaculate
Warm as the march of a billion torches forward to burn 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, let's salute the embrace generals who turned innocent hermits to burning spectacles.
Flirtin' with a serpent overtime
Drain the battery, siphon the poison and his majesty's hatchery.
I was on the yellow bus to where the brush thickens.
Yeah, an it exactly plush 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.
bite
Breath too to hold.
Caught up in the wake of the red witch tryin' to it.
Ran for the of dead click stripped of idealic image
Steal a sloppy earth meal feed my wheel to model collossal vision
Thrill, shrunken with a of pennies
I'ma drag my through the dirt like alligator bellies
'Til the cloud
Honour and a thirst submersed in a trap
Little boy verse' thunderclap

In a of garbage, tryin' 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, to circumstance or play you final hand.

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

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

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