Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his homie Murs on the
Gotta talk to who can tell him what the hell is wrong
Brain freezing up, he don't what to do
But the people that know him know that it ain't new
Catch five rings, then an machine
up on the beep, stare up towards the ceiling
Stood up to remember he slept fully-dressed
So he grabbed his keys and put a hat on his nest
Stepped up to that big
Somebody once said "Today's a 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 when you have a minute
Handle it. up. The change, you can keep it
He's a sucker for the smile and summer cleavage
If you him better he'd ask for some time
'cause he's looking for a to empty his mind
And there's only so he can put in a song
Gotta to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong

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

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

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

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