Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his homie on the telephone
talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong
Brain freezing up, he don't what to do
But the people that know him that it ain't nothing new
Catch five rings, an answering machine
Hang up on the beep, stare up the ceiling
up to remember that he slept fully-dressed
So he his keys and put a hat on his rat's nest
up to that big outside
Somebody said "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 in the dirt
A to the strangers, a stranger 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 morning smile and summer
If you him better he'd ask for some time
'cause he's looking for a reservoire to his mind
And only so much he can put in a song
Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him the hell is wrong

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

No shop to titillate
Far from shallow, so get it
Blacktop, sidewalk,and the
'cause is priceless and talk is cheap
And as he sits (as he sits) in his four-cornered
Following a tune, to consume
Carefully and analyzing the lyrics you use
Finally realizing that humility is a
Scared love make none
If these walls could speak, they would about the fake ones
this man, falling off of his plan-
Underachievin' just so he can understand. (Crazy speech.)

So, who did your
That's
And who built tabboos?
That's
If he had a glass pipe, he would smash it and use it to his wrists
But someone already him to it
He would fingerpaint you a with his blood
A self-portrait, dramatic and
But the odds of you finding any are too slim-
Keeps his grim
Tap his to the rhythm of original sin
Throw his balls to the wind trying to down these pins
He'll keep swinging from the above his chin
Till he finds his soul in the cent bin
The of the payphone escalates
Fake smile when he takes 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
Still trying to honor this daughter
Still answering you're afraid to ask
Still believing that God's save his ass

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