Luyện nghe bài hát Lisa's Separation

She up the mirror, hid his photo in the
drawer. The sketches that he for her were rip-
ped and rolling across the floor. All and
promises and plans they'd were scratched or
burned as laid her head down for the night.
the pictures flowed day and night. There's
no escape, there's no remission . . . one's us in
Paris, and this one's us in Rome. That was him
in plasticene, rocks were him in stone. And
still she found no explanation why he left a
word. It seemed like such an night. Still the
flowed throuhg the night. No escape, no
remission . . . They his few possessions and
they buried him in sand. They spent his coins in
fee bars and washed their hands. The only
hint of was a lack of intuition--left with
dirty hands without a fight. How the flowed
through the night. Made escape, a fruitless
. . . His ghost peeps through the curtains
gently whispering her name. It hovers over
mementos to explain. And maybe it takes 40
years of patience, swimming the tears. He'll
guard her each and every lonely night. Still the
flow through the night. No escape, no
separation.