Luyện nghe bài hát High-Strung Poets

You yourself in camouflage
to see eyes spelled out just right and you
fired your last ball-point pen.
Across your parchment
so in rhyme and meter and
war of words began to meet its Hell today.

Hold your words the sun.
It's high-strung poets on a porcelain string.
Tied to one another, searching for something.

You'll your weapons down again
and see the ink through the page and you'll
surrender your lasts thoughts to the again.

your words against the sun.
It's like high-strung poets on a string.
Tied to one another, always for something.

Let the sun disguise the
of words misery.
Face light beneath the
thoughts I I'd never.