Luyện nghe bài hát Inflammatory Writ

Oh, where is your inflammatory
Your text that would a light be lit
Our music deserving unswerving
Cry "Do I her?" with unflagging fervor
Well, no we do not if we get over it

But what's it when suddenly we're spent, tell me true
came and reared its head and went far from you
Even have weddings, though solemn and leaden
But you dirge for the dead and no jam on your bread
Just a supper of and a waltz through your empty bed

And all at once it to me
And I wrote in hunch 'til
But vestal light
It burns out with the
In of all the time that we spend on it
On one bedraggled ghost of a
outside the wild boars root
Without a bough underfoot
Oh it my heart
I know how they do it
So ask me

And as for my inflammatory
Well, I wrote it and I was not one bit
from the master derailed that disaster
He "Hand that pen over to me, poetaster!"
across the great plains keening lovely and awful
Ululate the lost American Novels
An unlawful lot left to stutter and freeze,
But at they didn't run, to their undying credit