Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
Like a finger in the back of your
Cherubs and cerebellum, at Sarah's wedding
Sam Sam
Band pushed the finger of Sam's hairiest hand
If that you, you a bigot
If it doesn't well then you
is life
Odd as Egg at night
No answers, so let us watch dancers
Structure reformed gracefully born
On the pallet of greys, concaves and spirals
into a Eiffel
It then it tidals
then it virals
Babylons then it and others
And tell me of the spinning
And today's mathematics for
And beasts' bellies like the cummerbunds of butlers

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

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

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

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

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