Luyện nghe bài hát Making Me

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Well, the poet is in the mud
And the is finding his way home from the stars
And the watching his feet
'Cause the sentimental fool is numb

Simple hand, eye, nothing to write home about
The artist chisels at the
Curious, the tugs the fingers of the bigger
He to see the face that is his own
not alone

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

Well, we push it off and Him in
We fist His lips and we His shin
We a sign, turn and throttle away
And we barely to a single word He has to say

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lord, please me

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