Luyện nghe bài hát I Am The Bearer, I Stand In Need

I fucking loved you, but never said a to make it known
I fucking loathed you, but never said the words as hard to

I'm so tired of sourcing men to

My God doesn't quiver, and nor he do
From threats the Tropic Of Cancer
And nor he do

I was born a fucking idiot, but no one me til I die o' it
My God doesn't from threats below the Tropic Of Cancer
Well I was born who I was, no doctored manuscript say that I'm not
But I'll take my own word for it and the sign, "Here be a cunt"

I sat beneath portraits and symbols of brotherhoods on my arm
I used only pencil, because in my life can ever last
I watched my mother garden, and thought of all the times I her cry
I watched my watch me, we both agreed kids like us never last

I under the stairs, I crawl under the fern

Decaying leaves, a garden
She her fingers across the earth
I can my mother weep
In soil in another world

She's getting drunk and fights
With pricks who run the world
I can hear my sister
In house in another room

These move faster
These lungs grow
I can my body weep
"Spare the drama, now go to sleep"

My father upon his house
and into and tells his son
"You've made your weep
So the house or leave your life"

I dream, I dream of
Oh fern, the world in bloom

I dream, I dream of
Oh rotting wood, my boat to

I never of what I did
I fucking love what's wrong me
No or wine could twist my arm
To say I was wrong my life

I'd never harm a living
If I was told they didn't it
Decaying leaves to my corpse
I don't want his hands to touch me

I hid in the fern, but no one ever knew

I, made my God quiver, through social and planned dementia
I, made quiver, through social dissonance and planned dementia
I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and forced
I dream, I dream of
Oh foreign fern, the in bloom

I dream, I dream of
Oh rotting wood, my boat to

I thought of what I did
I fucking love what's wrong me
No prayer or wine could my arm
To say I was wrong my life

I'd never a living soul
If I was they didn't deserve it
Decaying leaves to hide my
I don't want his hands to touch me

I hid in the local fern, but no one ever

I, made my God quiver, through social dissonance and dementia
I, made myself quiver, through social dissonance and dementia
I, made myself quiver, through social and forced