Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his Murs on the telephone
Gotta to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong
Brain freezing up, he know what to do
But the that know him know that it ain't nothing new
five rings, then an answering machine
Hang up on the beep, stare up the ceiling
up to remember that he slept fully-dressed
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 really was a big fan of their work
So he starts up the walk by kicking sand in the
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
a sucker for the morning smile and summer cleavage
If you knew him better he'd ask for some
'cause he's looking for a to empty his mind
And there's so much he can put in a song
Gotta talk to somebody who can him what the hell is wrong

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

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

So, who did your
That's
And who built your
life
If he had a pipe, he would smash it and use it to slash his wrists
But already beat him to it
He would fingerpaint you a with his blood
A self-portrait, dramatic and
But the odds of you finding any appreciation are too
his outlook grim
Tap his to the rhythm of original sin
Throw his balls to the wind trying to know these pins
He'll keep swinging from the hair his chin
Till he finds his soul in the cent bin
The of the payphone escalates
Fake when he takes home one of his dates
He could write another hate-poem for you to
Or stay calm and wait for that big earthquake
Still surrounded by the and the water
Still trying to this empire's daughter
answering questions you're afraid to ask
Still that God's gonna save his ass

If you knew him better 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 talk to who can tell him what the hell is wrong