Luyện nghe bài hát Kw

In streets still soft sleep
whisper words that are the dirt beneath
verbal arrows that you
shot the moon in parking lot

I hit you in the
my fist imprinted with your marks
and skin struck cobblestone
like a broken bone

If you play it
me on the line
hold your so tight
until your turn white

Any glove that
was by hypocrites
with no one to blame
there's no reward for a fame

Your eyes follow me
like cigarette in a sweatshirt sleeve
like a space you fill
you can try to me but I'm hard to kill

You can for my stride
cheer me on from the with your pretender pride
forgive but won't forget
all the of your swaying threats

If you play it
Keep me on the
hold knives so tight
until your knuckles turn

Any glove that
was by hypocrites
with no one else to
there's no for a wicked fame

when we hit the dust
hands smelling like coins and rust
Your heels were high
Just the kind of crazy that catch my eye

instructions still prevail
"just a few can throws crooked tail"
Your sling and slang in
just like a lucid dream

If you it right
Keep me on the
hold your so tight
until your turn white

Any glove that
was stitched by
with no one to blame
there's no for a wicked fame