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

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

Well, we push it off and Him in
We His lips and we kick His shin
We post a sign, and throttle away
And we barely listen to a single 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 made me a son

Lord, me be the one You're making me, yeah
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
Ashes burn or these thoughts be put under a fire
To be burned as I have tried to learn from the of his will
I am standing still

The night fell fast, I crashed and blast my
Like a megaphone
all of my feelings at the ceiling
'Cuz I to know who I am and if I really have a home

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

Lord, please help me be the one making me

Lord, help me

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