Luyện nghe bài hát Jejune

A green line across my forehead says I was never king at all.
And all my friends fell out rotting teeth.
My riches turned to dust, my kingdom crumbles and away.
But every is a blossom of jejune praise.
I feel I'm more each day. I need to find my feet again.
And I know that all things must pass, but the aching never fades away.

A pair of lenses fracture across a map.
The places we've never been are Sharpied onto tape on a coffee can.
You were crying in the kitchen, I was you breathe.
You were screaming at the floor "This place is not for me".
But now you're leaving. The is done.
You fold us airplanes and throw us at the sun.

And I still sick when I sit still.
I you follow plot-lines,
how she'd tilt her head to you that there was no condition
of you.

Was I the wind between your
Was she the slab that your fall?
Did you get my

The green line across my forehead. Was I ever here at all?
My efforts stretched rubber bands, decayed.
We waltzed charades inside abandoned apartment space
To the echoing made that "maybe one day..."

I'd like to my name and burn it with my mattress and my books and my identity.
And I'd like to drive I can't see the skylines.
Sometimes I feel so stuck in propulsion, my feet are still in but my head is fucking frozen.
So I'm leaving. The is done.
My is unconditional, But I'm in no condition to love.

Now I've found to write about. This is the letting go for hope in jejune bloom.
If I told you that when you left I was discolored and frayed, would you lend me hue and wax?

(Trace your back to a time where headstones were headlines and your name pooled sweet on our tongues.)

And if I showed you, through verb and tax I had learned to let go,
If I could go back, I'd say that you right.
right. You're right.