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 doll performance
Warm as the march of a billion torches to burn what I born at
Cut and paste alertness to current set is provided
Shimmy the pirate ship mast, bat the eyelids at the in her bow (?)
Facing, let's salute the embrace pertinent generals who turned innocent hermits to spectacles.
Flirtin' with a serpent overtime
Drain the battery, siphon the poison and flood his hatchery.
I was riding on the yellow bus to where the thickens.
Yeah, an it ain't exactly pickin's
I'd rather take the to burn every last bridge I've ever crossed beneath the sun
Than live my knowin' you may one day follow me over one.
Snake
Breath too to hold.
up in the wake of the red witch tryin' to swim it.
Ran for the sake of dead stripped of idealic image
Steal a sloppy earth meal feed my pottery wheel to model collossal
Thrill, shrunken with a bucket of
I'ma drag my through the dirt like alligator bellies
'Til the burst
and a loud 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 artist the forest
your little axe or be an oak tree if you can
Either way, adapt to circumstance or play you hand.

No enigma, an attempt to bury the
Rendered me victim of deviltry wounded like stigmatics
Somethin's somethin
I smell an inch of in this mornin's pollution pistons and how the loose ends drift in
My sour pash (?) institutions in admidst the invaders and,
Pardon my but,
This garden's grown fucken' since my visit.
Itchin' to count the layers in the blizzard to that chapter where my family the dagger and twists it.
It's the carnival, have you any sweets for my kin
It's the carnival, you any feed for my cheery grin
It's the carnival, welcome, our games you'll never win
Coz it's that carnival where every freak show your friend.
An' I'm a,
galleon, tossed upon cloudy seas
Antifreeze to glacier cookin' a look of fiery
the,
Ceilin' feelin' too heavy to bless the for a fraction more collapse (I left sorry) that to your door.
Bitchin' my to hell's kitchen, back
Burnin' murder machinery, released regardless of the
Hitchin my life to the leash of one
of same window different visual
Same agnostic hostage ritual
Play, coopertive supercolony clash (I heard we a dust collection - let me see it)
Ooh, I this underdog verse forced adaption 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, adapt to circumstance or play you hand.

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