Luyện nghe bài hát Making Me

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Well, the poet is in the mud
And the dreamer is his way home from the stars
And the watching his feet
the sentimental fool is numb again

Simple hand, simple eye, to write home about
The chisels at the stone
Curious, the tugs the fingers of the bigger
He wants to see the that is his own
He's not

Lord, help me be the one making me, yeah
Lord, help me see the one making me
One making me, the one You're making me

Well, we it off and pull Him in
We fist His and we kick His shin
We post a sign, turn and away
And we barely listen to a word He has to say

By His eye a tendril
He a word, but not a spell
It's all tied up, it's all
I was a cancer, but You made me a son

Lord, help me be the one You're making me,
Lord, me see the one You're making me
One you're me, the one you're making me

I feel the whims of the wicked as I wonder whether
burn twice or these thoughts be put under a fire
To be burned as I tried to learn from the whisper of his will
I am standing still

The night fell fast, I and blast my prayers
through a megaphone
Aimed all of my at the ceiling
'Cuz I want to know who I am and if I really a home

Lord, help me be the one You're me, yeah
Lord, me see the one You're making me
One making me, the one you're making me

Lord, please help me be the one making me

Lord, please me

The one You're me
The one You're me
The one
Lord, please help me be the one making me
The one You're me
The one making me