Luyện nghe bài hát Maintenance

[Aesop
that for me...thanks

[Robotic 4x
One, two, one, two, three,

Rock]
Well any with a book of matches can light a fire fresh
Make that burn for days, I'll be impressed
Circlin the culture's bigot, procreation baked in advanceable
Then ball and up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill
I know gerth and nature but recognize ballot
And sappy ballads couldn't the void
This game's in the Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED!
(No one's asking you to the narc, brother!)
Hmm, it's
I'll find my own bullies to shake a wrapped in
Realigned mine knives in divine
Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those ample waves of finally crash
Brimstone clone legs and dim poems
Ten Zen crafts
Things cooperate like paper dog participants
Picket or ride or burner style clinic
Acid with the
P-H imbalance to the malice martyrs spaceless
Then daytrips
I to be the halo that jumps off the brain
Of the genius who decided some deserved frames
(God and I are on a first basis)
Yeah I call him God, he calls me
I lost my religion, he fell to pieces
Blade, dragon, up hell's
Interrupting a devil
Starfighter to madness
I keep my spirit concealed
Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder

4x
My told me there'd be days like this
Days like this, days like this, like this (yes she did)

[Robotic 4x
One, two, one, two, three,

Rock]
Okay, tell me who you with and I'll tell you who you are
I walk a with a leash attached to your freak seminar
It's a sensation on the boulevard of maintenance
To your broken hopes under the rugs then hug the playpen
This revolution pushing the loose pins and a strait jacket
A maverick classed in a bunk
They had him parallel a tattered glory division
(I could devil dreams out of thermos)
Yeah, with a whiskey
It's like, nine wake (I'm up) spit obscentities
My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my tree
The day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set
That got my papergrain's wet
Voyeurist amendments lack expansive in the syllabus
I dance shuckles while you man the keyhole grilling code
done my chores according to God's schedule
With holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals
Metal edge kings that tends to the pebble
Kettle out the operetta
I live to autograph the iron curtain with doveback pens
Spurting magma, cursing urns to burn until my Cleopatra
(Major) dispersed slap on the wrist
For the lacking the arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship
with a "Yes sir"
Change of fatigue to
beneath the angle
I'ma call home until the rock meets the

4x

[Robotic voice] *repeat to
One, two, one, two, three,