Luyện nghe bài hát Maniac

She's on his mind, on his wall. She's in the
of his eye. She whispers sweet delerium. He
climbs inside and blushes as the crimson flows
and flushes him . . . The sheets are stained;
again and unfulfilled. A cleaning bill. The
dream was killed before he her--now he's
cursing the alarm. But she teases the T.V.--
her legs in magazines. She steams his
collar, she dusts his shelf, she his hair. She's
there . . . There's just the letter one-way while
the ansaphone says "No way!" But search and
find her even if he has to tie her down . . . (He'd
kiss the ground she on . . .)