Luyện nghe bài hát Garbage

The ritual goes, window different visual.

Wing of wax, or of gold leaf
Choose one. Float or plummet 20 cold legues
My nourishment's in the summer
So that I
How y'all chasin' dreams when what's tangible outruns ya
dirty doll immaculate performance
Warm as the march of a torches forward to burn what I born at
Cut and paste to current set is provided quick
Shimmy the pirate mast, bat the eyelids at the siren in her bow (?)
Facing, let's salute the embrace pertinent generals who turned innocent hermits to spectacles.
with a serpent workin' overtime
Drain the battery, siphon the poison and his majesty's hatchery.
I was riding on the yellow bus to where the thickens.
Yeah, an it ain't plush pickin's
I'd rather take the time to burn every bridge 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 tryin' to swim it.
Ran for the of dead click stripped of idealic image
Steal a sloppy earth meal feed my pottery wheel to model vision
Thrill, shrunken with a bucket of
I'ma drag my sneakers through the like alligator bellies
'Til the cloud
Honour and a loud thirst in a trap
Little drummer boy thunderclap

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

No enigma, an attempt to bury the
Rendered me victim of deviltry plus like stigmatics
Somethin's somethin
I smell an of differnce in this mornin's pollution pistons and how the loose ends drift in
My pash (?) institutions slipped in admidst the invaders and,
Pardon my but,
This garden's grown acres since my visit.
Itchin' to count the layers in the blizzard to that where my family inserts the dagger and twists it.
It's the carnival, have you any sweets for my kin
It's the carnival, have you any feed for my cheery
It's the carnival, welcome, play our you'll never win
Coz it's that carnival where every freak spectacle's your friend.
An' I'm a,
galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas
Antifreeze to glacier cookin' a of fiery nature
the,
Ceilin' feelin' too to bless the I-beams for a fraction more collapse (I left sorry) that to your door.
Bitchin' my back to hell's kitchen,
murder machinery, released regardless of the pardons
Hitchin my life to the leash of one
Sick of same different visual
Same agnostic different ritual
Play, coopertive supercolony (I heard we have a dust collection - let me see it)
Ooh, I duel this underdog verse forced to the marbles of the now
Since then my knuckles once dragged on the ground.

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

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