Luyện nghe bài hát Lost

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