Luyện nghe bài hát Maps In Her Wrists And Arms

In the tent of and lace
Vultures pick at a that feeds by hand
to decay
Waits to hear the
Of wings slowly heave as they fly away
Some will for days
There's in her wrists and arms
And the dust like snow around the bed
Glowing white, a of bone
Or a jewel like a crumpled, moon
Shivers in her
If she too near
It shatters so quickly, leaves nothing
The old lady
Sometimes when she her eyes
The room has filled with flowing sheets of
There's maps in her wrists and
And the morphine surges terror and bliss
In the of powder and lace
She can hear some violins, watches the
Threading through the