Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
Like a in the back of your mouth
and cerebellum, Tara at Sarah's wedding
Sam Sam
pushed upon the finger of Sam's hairiest hand
If sickens you, you a bigot
If it doesn't well you wicked
Such is
Odd as Egg McMuffins at
No answers, so let us watch these
reformed gracefully being born
On the pallet of greys, concaves and spirals
into a Eiffel
It then it tidals
Vacillates it virals
Babylons it Bibles and others
And me of the spinning mothers
And today's for beloved
And beasts' covered 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 to the heavens do anything for
La mort, la petite mort

They keep the bottles to make glass houses
Then up to the second floors and throw rocks out it
Then expect not a volley in
Some vulnerable like prolly in the eye
What of the chicken? what is it missin', is it
Did it die in inhumane conditions so it didn't go relaxed
And attention from its pulled all of the flavor from the fat
And made it flat and lifeless
Well there's a place that has a [?]
And mercifully murdered Pisces
But barbaric are the prices
It's rather niceless, apricot in and fromage slices
My son will call risotto
If and when left to his own devices, well
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 like Phil
I feel I'm but maybe the transmission
Still left out the life, also out the will, grief
Will never touch your teeth
Maybe like kosher
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

How at the date can I make you my
Cause I you dear, ooh, I want you dear
The hell that we to the heavens make [?] for
Our petite mort, our 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 shoves one back to a of stab wounds
ridden goons consumed and driven mad soon
The attended slowly fills with baboons
That other monkey
Where killers go free cause a junkie's a witness
Runny mascaras from the mask wearers of death
Bygone errors, sittin' like two oil
Separated by a sea of cooling num
of an every day playing hum drum
Where went unnoticed
And then solidified till it was
We should've poets
Somewhere between amateurs and grandmasters of pentameter

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