Luyện nghe bài hát Happy Hour

by alcohol,
shooting out like a rocket,
a prophet out of Babylon
method the absurd...
Shoot me those
till I'm lit up like I'm plugged in a
me eyeball to eyeball,
let's not bother the words.
Oh, on the clowns, bring on the night,
pour me vision in black and white.
I'm falling, falling don't me that look!
I'm falling, falling, it's the oldest in the book,
My chickadee, my flower,
me the way to the Happy Hour.

I don't like to see
oh, no, I don't the way the hand is shaking,
shape-making an acrobat
on his way to the trapeze.
My friends in the
are all taking
they're taking away the net.
Falling, falling don't me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest in the book,
vertigo on the tower
is this really they mean by "Happy Hour"?

The line between the and the suicidal
so fine he might not know when crossed it,
he's lost it;
when the social kick becomes the of survival.

So to the circus,
let's drink to the of forgetting
the marionette strings jerk us,
the real world outside the door.
I know that my legs gone
and I know that the here is far from perfect...
but rehearsed it, so I'll carry on
I wind up on the floor.

My in the bar
will me a round,
toast me on my way to the underground.
I'm falling, falling don't me that look!
I'm falling, only falling, it's the oldest in the book,
My chickadee, my flower,
me the way to the Happy Hour.
Vertigo on the high-wire
is this really what mean by "Happy Hour"?

Put on the greasepaint, we're getting for Happy Hour.
Do you hear me Can you feel me now?
I'm in the of Happy Hour...
Put on the greasepaint.
[repeat to