Luyện nghe bài hát Lost

Picture this, 2:30 on the hottest in June
He awakes for no reason and his watch by the moon
And his mouth feels as dry as his as he struggles to rise
And stops to contemplate his wifes thighs as he up his flies

He finds his slippers where he them under the chair
the two cups and an old copy of Marie Claire
And he on the coffee machine
That of course works a dream
sight of his reflection in the silver surface sheen

And it's a face he knows well although it look less abused
With all these and the skin products hes used
As he moves through the kitchen, his to brushed steel
the new pine floorin' thats plastic but looks real

Past the plasma with the wide
And the cinema surround
And he stops on his favorite spot by the window and down
On the orange lit at the edge of the private car park
his Audi TT is waitin' safely in the dark

Keepin' it all of you
will have to give
And if you youll take it back
But you lose your way in the way you

Now he can hear wind chimes tinklin' out on the
And his phone out a text message in the same key
He checks it and its Jill who used to be his
Before started an affair and things began to get really scary

Now his wife is gettin' weary of his lies
shes read the whole sordid story in his eyes
It doesnt help that Jills now sayin' shes two weeks late
His mental is really startin' to deteriorate

He never how he got so out of his depth
Or why hes more than all these promises kept
And its been ages he slept properly
His sleeps now broken by these dreams of activity

to recapture the rapture he used to get
From his material possessions and retail therapy sessions
Shoulda to what his dad said before he died
The best things in life are the you cant buy, son

it all inside of you
Somethin' have to give
Wish you could buy a back
But you lose way in the way you live

He used to feel so up here in his shrine to Ikea
from the shouts and the louts and the girls
With the painted pouts
And the queers and the and the kids in their box fresh Nikes
Deliverin' to the house across the street
On mountain bikes

He to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea
Away from the shouts and the and the girls
the over painted pouts
And the queers and the and the kids in their box fresh Nikes
Deliverin' rocks to the house across the
On mountain bikes