Luyện nghe bài hát Lost

Picture two thirty on the hottest night in June
He for no reason and checks his watch by the moon
And his mouth as dry as his eyes as he struggles to rise
and stops to contemplate his [wife's?] eyes as he does up his
He finds his slippers where he left them the chair
behind the two cups and an old copy of Claire
And he switches on the coffee machine that, of course, works a dream
Catches sight of his reflection in the silver sheen
and it's a face he knows well, it should look less abused,
with all these moisturisers and the products he used
As he through the kitchen his homage to brush steel,
across the new pine that's plastic but looks real
Past the plasma with the screen and cinema surround sound
and he stops at his favourite by the window and looks down
On the orange lit street at the edge of the private car
his Audi TT is waiting safely in the dark (safely in the dark)
Keeping it all of you (inside of you)
Something will have to
And if you could, you'll take it
But you lose your way in the way you
Now he can windchimes tinkling out on the balcony
and his beeping out a text message in the same key
He checks it and it's Jill who to be his secretary
they started an affair and things began to get really scary
Now his Mary's getting wary of his lies
like she's read the whole story in his eyes
It help that Jill's now saying that she's two weeks late,
His mental state is starting to deteriorate
He never knew how he got so out of his
or why he's broken more all these promises kept
And it's been ages since he's properly
His sleep's now broken by these dreams of extra activity
to recapture the rapture he used to get
from his material and endless retail therapy sessions
Should have to what his dad said before he died
"The things in life are the ones you can't buy, son"
it all inside of you (inside of you)
Something will have to
you could buy a ticket back (a ticket back)
But you lose your way in the way you
He used to feel so safe up here in his to Ikea
from the shouts and the louts, and the girls with the overpainted pouts
And the queers and the dykes and the in their box-fresh Nike's
delivering to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes
He to feel so safe up here in his shrine to Ikea
Away from the shouts and the louts, and the girls the overpainted pouts
And the queers and the dykes and the kids in box-fresh Nike's
rocks to the house across the street on rusty mountain bikes