Luyện nghe bài hát Kill The Switch

Map the words to deny, deny the symptoms, as 'oh yeah I'm doing fine', as I've found a endearing psychosis.
Somewhere out there there's a thrill I swear. Desperate as I am I just can't strip bare and bleed the purity I've known.
But I lay with reason. Found logic concieved in a walk skin. I sleep with reason producing these monsters.
Under painted catcalls as in temptation. yeah there's a key to be in, but there's no shade, no to blame.
Waterfalls in a cool grey, and the struggle is colored grey this day. The caw of fills up the picture plane.
Our picture plane is veiled in central neutral grey. Absinthe to the pain. This world's this worst case color scheme.
Streaks of oil stain, the road he crawled on homeward.
Oh yeah, oh yeah he threw the switch, with some gauge, absence of light remains.
I lay with reason so logic can reap in a walk with sin. El sueno produce monsinios.
When does this dream end? Now I've missed whole season,
I've missed the fall, clearly its on this land as fields once green are ochre now.
This is no dream. Trees have turned to skeleton, roots teased and knotted below the surface skin of ground.
Stitched between the and the sky struggling to hold it down.
Sometimes to realize you have to lose track, lose track of sight blurring my makes it clear that tiny moving parts make up the whole.
The image is clear, a tower is built of my own pride, I cry in the shade if offers, the only shelter I have.
When does dream end? This is no dream. This is the waking living breathing caricature of a memory.
Shamelessly I in to temptation of creation. But still my only thrill is empty sidewalks, silent streets.
The caw of crows fills up the picture plane. This is your picture plain in central grey.
This world's this worst case color scheme. of oil stain, stained the road he crawled on homeward.
Oh yeah, oh he killed the switch with some unwieldy gauge, absence of light remains.
is lowly anonymity, in death a noble pose, a Marat David.
Tell me who wouldn't give their lives for such a soap box to die behind. Life is lowly, anonymity.
In the space of a smile I found sleep. As in sorrow, so shall ye reap, as in reason so ye sleep.
Reap the promised end to the struggle. Reap point on our linear path.
Reap the smiles in time we borrow, every relies on the last.
Reap the promising song of the sparrow, that learned from the birth of sea.
Silenced by the threnody of the crows. Reap the fruit of the dogwood tree.
But I witnessed in all this silence one souls of beauty. and a backlit smile so temporary.
A facade so rich with evil history. in direct opposition set to overwhelm this moment to shine and sleep-
out on top of what was borrowed, and found all that beauty to be still.
Every breath as in sorrow, reap the promised end to this path, by image that we borrow, every harvest depends on the past.
in factions our linear parabola, we subdivide our waking hours to sleep.
While guilty turn toward a porchlight, enlightenment is losing sight.
Somewhere out there a thrill I swear. In this low light town when my shift begins the streets reflecting yellow, yellow, yellow in the vacancy that overwhelms the red, red, red, your vehicle the color of expansion.
"Open up." the latter just a thought to thrill me "knock knock knock" the latter just a thought to me.
"Red" is a four letter word. letter invitation. Now my head is locked in the direction of the sun...
is lowly anonymity, in death a noble prose, a Marat David.
Tell me who give their lives for such a soap box to leave behind.
Life is lowly, anonymity. I know its all been done before, I want to do it again. I want do it again.
the switch.
This night our journey's the dark.
Kill the switch, a welcome comatose, tonight we journey the darkness.
As in sorrow, so ye weep, as in reason, so shall ye sleep.