Luyện nghe bài hát Lost

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

He finds his slippers where he left them under the
Behind the two and an old copy of Marie Claire
And he switches on the machine
That of course like a dream
Catches sight of his reflection in the silver sheen

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

Past the with the wide screen
And the surround sound
And he stops on his favorite spot by the window and down
On the lit street at the edge of the private car park
Where his TT is waitin' safely in the dark

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

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

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

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

Tryin' to recapture the rapture he to get
his material possessions and endless retail therapy sessions
Shoulda listened to what his dad said he died
The best in life are the ones you cant buy, son

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

He used to feel so safe up here in his shrine to
Away from the shouts and the and the girls
With the painted pouts
And the queers and the dykes and the in their box fresh Nikes
rocks to the house across the street
On rusty bikes

He used to feel so safe up in his shrine to Ikea
Away from the shouts and the louts and the
With the over painted
And the queers and the dykes and the kids in their box fresh
Deliverin' to the house across the street
On mountain bikes