Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
a finger in the back of your mouth
Cherubs and cerebellum, at Sarah's wedding
Sam Sam
Band upon the finger of Sam's hairiest hand
If that sickens you, you a
If it doesn't then you wicked
is life
Odd as Egg McMuffins at
No answers, so let us these dancers
Structure reformed gracefully born
On the pallet of greys, concaves and spirals
Kaleidoscope into a
It ripples it tidals
then it virals
Babylons then it Bibles and
And tell me of the mothers
And mathematics for beloved
And beasts' bellies like the cummerbunds of butlers

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

They keep the just to make glass houses
Then climb up to the second floors and throw out it
Then expect not a volley in
Some vulnerable like prolly in the eye
of the chicken? what is it missin', is it dry?
Did it die in some inhumane so it didn't go relaxed
And from its demise pulled all of the flavor from the fat
And it flat and rather lifeless
there's a place that has a stunning [?]
And more mercifully Pisces
But barbaric are the prices
It's rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage
My son will call risotto
If and when left to his own devices, well
How is memory?
Is it like a lemon tree
To bear bitter of what you meant to me
Or was it slippin' like permission am I trippin' Phil
I feel I'm grippin' but maybe the
Still left out the life, left out the will, grief
Will cheese never your teeth
Maybe like kosher
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

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

So glad you're back, but not glad at you're glad
Where is the glamor in
Where in the shatter of the facts shoves one back to a pattern of stab
Swoon ridden consumed and driven mad soon
The attended years slowly with baboons
other monkey business
Where killers go free cause a a funky witness
Runny mascaras the cunning mask wearers of death
errors, sittin' like two oil derricks
Separated by a sea of cooling num
of an every day playing hum drum
Where went unnoticed
And then solidified it was stoic
We should've poets
Somewhere between amateurs and of iambic pentameter

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