Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot A Warhol

I a Warhol
Dead with my
When the hit the hole
In the canvas it
Beautiful with no
A face no name
Glass of cold fame
it with slow pain

---

Nostrils of
and kill time
Scenes from a bad
out in real time
Who the hero
Which the victim
and fearful
They find their

and ambition, the enemies inside you
Tendencies to listen, even when lied to
Pry the details
the myth
Try to the cast
With trips
Mash lips against a cold hard bottle of
up stars and old role models

She loves the
So much that she
But talk to
Which will she follow
Everybody to be appreciated
Execute him for the masterpiece that he
Death of a sales
starter
If the hate make you wanna die
Try

---

I shot a
Dead with my
When the hit the hole
In the it whistled
with no frame
A with no name
Glass full of fame
Chased it slow pain

No game to to
The coke side you
with no aim
And its the that you "Eye" to
Steady that rifle
Pointed at idle
Open up the
With fallen rival

This is the
Replace the
The batch of faces
Can come hate the
Everybody thinks that what make is golden
Lennon got shot
There were thoughts of
gonna do to impress the bitch
Which slow blow picked
When you get itch

If notice
That you're to the focus
Surround with soldiers
and minded moments
Dark sticks, in whoever heart's the
Eye of the
Is dark, and vicious
She you
Because she image
Let's tear it all
the start to the finish

---
I a Warhol
Dead my pistol
When the wind hit the
In the canvas it
with no frame
A with no name
Glass of cold fame
Chased it with pain

It's nothing but a slow
If you just feeling it
friends and your folks
Can't adjust to what you're dealing
Accustomed to
Now the got you killing it
Eyes shut
Now fucked
No it

Travel down the towards the light
Once in space
it's to lose sight
look down
You're to fall flat
If you do hit the
bound to bounce back

The sound
She hated every single
But else
Seemed to wanna sing
along
The belief every thing is wrong
We all down in front of God
Before the of dawn

Open up the
To sex, drugs, and
Movies, songs,
Everything is on it
So we on it
Got a with your face on it
---
I a Warhol
with my pistol
When the wind hit the
In the it whistled
Beautiful with no
A face no name
Glass of cold fame
it with slow pain