Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
Like a 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 well then you
Such is
Odd as Egg McMuffins at
No answers, so let us watch dancers
reformed gracefully being born
On the pallet of greys, concaves and spirals
Kaleidoscope into a
It ripples then it
Vacillates then it
then it Bibles and others
And tell me of the mothers
And today's for beloved
And beasts' bellies covered the cummerbunds of butlers

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

keep the bottles just to make glass houses
Then up to the second floors and throw rocks out it
expect not a volley in reply
Some place vulnerable like in the eye
What of the chicken? 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 made it and rather lifeless
there's a place that has a stunning [?]
And more mercifully Pisces
But are still the prices
rather niceless, apricot in dices and fromage slices
My son will risotto rices
If and when he's to his own devices, well
How is memory?
Is it returning like a tree
To bear bitter of what you meant to me
Or was it slippin' like permission am I trippin' like
I feel I'm but maybe the transmission
Still out the life, also left out the will, grief
Will cheese touch your teeth
Maybe kosher beef
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

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

So glad you're back, but not glad at you're glad
Where is the in collapse?
Where in the of the facts shoves one back to a pattern of stab wounds
Swoon goons consumed and driven mad soon
The years slowly fills with baboons
other monkey business
Where killers go free a junkie's a funky witness
Runny mascaras from the mask wearers of death
Bygone errors, sittin' two oil derricks
Separated by a sea of cooling num
Reminiscing of an every day playing hum
recognition went unnoticed
And then solidified it was stoic
We should've been
between amateurs and grandmasters of iambic pentameter

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