Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his Murs on the telephone
talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong
Brain up, he don't know what to do
But the people that know him that it ain't nothing new
Catch five rings, then an answering
up on the beep, stare up towards the ceiling
Stood up to remember that he slept
So he grabbed his and put a hat on his rat's nest
Stepped up to that big
Somebody said "Today's a good day to die."
But he really was a big fan of their work
So he up the walk by kicking sand in the dirt
A friend to the strangers, a to friends
He'll take a coffee and a pack of cigarettes you have a minute
Handle it. Paid up. The change, you can it
He's a sucker for the morning smile and summer
If you knew him he'd ask for some time
he's looking for a reservoire to empty his mind
And there's only so much he can put in a
Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the is wrong

2X]
And this house has lotta walls
But very few mean anything to you
And this house has gotta lotta
But very few mean anything to you

No value to titillate
Far shallow, so get it straight
Blacktop, sidewalk,and the
life is priceless and talk is cheap
And as he sits (as he sits) in his four-cornered
Following a tune, born to
Carefully learning and analyzing the you use
Finally realizing humility is a bruise
Scared don't make none
If these walls could speak, they would peep about the ones
Watching this man, falling off of his
Underachievin' so he can understand. (Crazy reverse speech.)

So, who did tattoos?
nice
And who built tabboos?
That's
If he had a glass pipe, he smash it and use it to slash his wrists
But someone beat him to it
He would fingerpaint you a picture his blood
A self-portrait, dramatic and
But the odds of you finding any appreciation are too
Keeps his grim
Tap his foot to the of original sin
Throw his balls to the wind to know down these pins
He'll keep swinging from the above his chin
Till he finds his soul in the fifty bin
The price of the escalates
Fake when he takes home one of his dates
He could another hate-poem for you to break
Or stay calm and wait for that big earthquake
surrounded by the fire and the water
Still to honor this empire's daughter
Still answering you're afraid to ask
Still believing that God's gonna his ass

If you knew him better he'd ask for time
he's looking for a reservoire to empty his mind
And there's so much he can put in a song
Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the is wrong