Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
a finger in the back of your mouth
Cherubs and cerebellum, Tara at wedding
Sam Sam
Band pushed upon the finger of Sam's hairiest
If that you, you a bigot
If it doesn't well you wicked
Such is
Odd as Egg at night
No answers, so let us watch dancers
Structure reformed gracefully being
On the of dark greys, concaves and spirals
Kaleidoscope into a
It ripples it tidals
Vacillates then it
Babylons then it and others
And me of the spinning mothers
And mathematics for beloved
And beasts' covered like the cummerbunds of butlers

How was day, can I make what you say
What I hear, cause I want you here
The hell that we raised to the heavens do for
La petite mort, la petite

keep the bottles just to make glass houses
Then climb up to the second floors and throw out it
Then expect not a volley in
Some place vulnerable like in the eye
What of the what is it missin', is it dry?
Did it die in some inhumane conditions so it didn't go
And attention from its demise all of the flavor from the fat
And made it and rather lifeless
Well a place that has a stunning [?]
And more mercifully murdered
But barbaric are the prices
It's rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage
My son will call rices
If and when he's left to his own devices,
How is your
Is it like a lemon tree
To bear fruit of what you meant to me
Or was it slippin' like permission am I trippin' like
I feel I'm grippin' but the transmission
Still left out the life, also left out the will,
Will cheese touch your teeth
Maybe like beef
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

How at the date can I you my break
I want you dear, ooh, I want you dear
The hell we raised to the heavens make [?] for
Our mort, our petite mort

So glad you're back, but not glad at that you're
is the glamor in collapse?
Where in the shatter of the facts one back to a pattern of stab wounds
Swoon ridden goons and driven mad soon
The attended years slowly fills with
That other monkey
Where killers go cause a junkie's a funky witness
Runny mascaras from the cunning mask wearers of
Bygone errors, sittin' two oil derricks
Separated by a sea of cooling num
Reminiscing of an day playing hum drum
Where recognition unnoticed
And solidified till it was stoic
We should've been
Somewhere between amateurs and grandmasters of iambic

How are chains, do they make you behave
Keep you here, by your overseer
from grace down from heaven to memories [?]
La mort, la petite mort