Luyện nghe bài hát High-Strung Poets

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

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

You'll throw your weapons again
and see the ink spilled through the and you'll
surrender your thoughts to the machine again.

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

Let the sun the mystery
of describing misery.
Face reflecting beneath the
I thought I'd never.