Luyện nghe bài hát Good Morning, Hypocrite

Seems the roads stretch out like veins, but there's no heart.
Nature's haircut is now, and we played our part.
So we ...

I've lost my taste for things. They're not for me.
I want mundane: a place, where time is free,
And I can ...

Climbed from my bed, to collect the that'd fallen from my head,
And you watched me sink, through the carpet, the basement, and beyond.
And you blink.

On the glass, I traced the sun with my thumb. It sank the ground.
And then the stars were blinking, like kids who were staring the wind.
So I climbed through the window and walked until I my name.
Now I can play the victim. fine. I've seen it on TV.
But if one thing I know, it's that I never really know enough.

Our heads, our hands, our brains, our lungs: they're machines.
These hearts are all that we've got left, and they beat.

Live a little, a lot; it's the way this goes.
I've come to fear the knives beneath their well-pressed clothes.
Their are reaching; reach is spreading through the neon glow.
mouths are moving, but their voices sound like telephones.
The hums; the traffic grumbles near my old window.
The street lights flicker; and hover like suspended snow.
I to watch the moon retreat and wonder where it goes.
Now I just wonder why my is overrun with ghosts