Luyện nghe bài hát Garbage

The goes, same window different visual.

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

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

No enigma, an attempt to bury the
Rendered me victim of deviltry plus like stigmatics
Somethin's hazardous
I smell an inch of differnce in this mornin's pollution pistons and how the ends drift in
My pash (?) institutions slipped in admidst the invaders 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 dagger and it.
It's the carnival, have you any for my weary kin
It's the carnival, have you any feed for my grin
It's the carnival, welcome, play our games never win
Coz it's that carnival where every show spectacle's your friend.
An' I'm a,
Ghostly galleon, tossed upon cloudy
to glacier cookin' a look of fiery nature
the,
Ceilin' feelin' too 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 of one minstrel
Sick of same different visual
Same agnostic hostage ritual
Play, supercolony clash (I heard we have a dust collection - let me see it)
Ooh, I duel underdog verse forced adaption to the marbles of the now
Since then my knuckles haven't once on the ground.

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

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