Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
Like a finger in the back of mouth
Cherubs and cerebellum, Tara at Sarah's
Sam Sam
Band pushed upon the finger of Sam's hand
If that you, you a bigot
If it doesn't well then you
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 a Eiffel
It ripples then it
then it virals
Babylons it Bibles and others
And tell me of the spinning
And today's for beloved
And beasts' bellies covered the cummerbunds of butlers

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

They the bottles just to make glass houses
Then up to the second floors and throw rocks out it
Then expect not a in reply
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 pulled all of the flavor the fat
And made it and rather lifeless
Well a place that has a stunning [?]
And more murdered Pisces
But barbaric are the prices
rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage slices
My son will risotto rices
If and when he's left to his own devices,
How is your
Is it returning like a tree
To bear bitter fruit of what you to me
Or was it slippin' like am I trippin' like Phil
I feel I'm grippin' but maybe the
Still left out the life, also out the will, grief
Will never touch your teeth
like kosher beef
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

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

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

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