Luyện nghe bài hát May I Call You Beatrice

Just a little thought in the of the one
With the sunburnt and the eyes to the ground
Making earwaxed tongue-tied sounds

Thinking of the lost rib, dialing the
Thinking the unthinkable, no one's

And the eyes say, I don't believe met
I don't believe you've had the
I don't believe met

the wind, when the wind, when the wind blows cold
And the eyes of the child old
When the erratic rises and falls
the faithful metronome
You can take me back to the

See her strain from the weight of the
Spinning around his assumptions, barefoot and lipped
He in his favourite chair, blowing his world

she's Beatrice then she's a pumpkin
Then she's a faded in a book on his pantry shelf

When the wind, when the wind, when the blows cold
And the of the child grow old
the erratic conga rises and falls
Above the faithful
You can take me to the gravestone

The head the hand play with the ring in the pocket
And the head knows the knows the ring is as round
As the tear-soaked shoulder in a room in town

And the ring is heavy and so is the crown
Which she drags to the feebly to keep the swelling down

When the wind, when the wind, when the blows cold
And the eyes of the grow old
When the conga rises and falls
the faithful metronome
You can take me to the gravestone

When the bird in the bush is two in the hand
And the empty cage holds the man
The bird flying from the orgoglian rising

And the phone keeps ringing and the keeps ringing
And the ring slipping and the phone
And the phone on ringing

And he's thinking the one who got away
And he's about the one who got away
And he's thinking the one who got away
And he's thinking the one who got away

And thinking and he's thinking
Whatchu