Luyện nghe bài hát Mara and Me

There are with guns beheading their friends
In shopping around the world
Yet somehow the Kings of Leon still find to write songs about girls

I don't suck much less at least those
Have no illusions of angst and

And if I claim revolutionary or I to charity
They'll all know a plea for someone like me
Disgusted with and cut down by their own beatnik poetry

I'm just one man no face and no friends
God, in this dank Brooklyn bar I can feel it again, it's me
Wait a second, I can't sing the same song over and over again

I can't define through irony and self-deprecation
I can't deny myself being through my alienation

Everything that you do keeps me running to you
Can't give up, live the dream even if I don't
We afford to surrender, we can't afford

Fake players and the web they weave
I contend that the coming holocaust will be of who choose to believe
Anything but a phallic sense of
Hang alone in the attic tied up tightly your father's belt

You bathe in blood Mr. Crowley
Your cost, their loss, their memory me
I stand opposed to that you chose
New heart, new bones, am I not

Fake players are the who play the game
(You're the flame, the flame, come on)
Fake players are the who play the game
(Fake players, players)

Fake players are the ones who play the
(You're the flame, you're the flame, on)
Fake players are the ones who the game
(Fake players)