Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his Murs on the telephone
Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is
Brain freezing up, he don't know to do
But the people that know him that it ain't nothing new
Catch rings, then an answering machine
Hang up on the beep, stare up the ceiling
Stood up to remember that he slept
So he grabbed his keys and put a hat on his nest
up to that big outside
Somebody once "Today's a good day to die."
But he never was a big fan of their work
So he starts up the walk by kicking in the dirt
A friend to the strangers, a to friends
He'll take a coffee and a pack of cigarettes when you a minute
Handle it. up. The change, you can keep it
He's a sucker for the morning and summer cleavage
If you knew him he'd ask for some time
'cause he's for a reservoire to empty his mind
And there's only so he can put in a song
talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong

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

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

So, who did tattoos?
That's
And who built tabboos?
life
If he had a glass pipe, he smash it and use it to slash his wrists
But already beat him to it
He would fingerpaint you a picture with his
A self-portrait, dramatic and
But the odds of you any appreciation are too slim-
Keeps his outlook
Tap his to the rhythm of original sin
Throw his balls to the wind trying to know down these
He'll swinging from the hair above his chin
Till he finds his in the fifty cent bin
The of the payphone escalates
Fake smile he takes home one of his dates
He could write another hate-poem for you to
Or maybe stay calm and for that big earthquake
Still surrounded by the fire and the
trying to honor this empire's daughter
Still questions you're afraid to ask
Still believing that gonna save his ass

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