Luyện nghe bài hát May I Call You Beatrice

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

Thinking of the lost rib, the indelible
the unthinkable, no one's home

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

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

See her strain the weight of the globe
around his assumptions, barefoot and tight lipped
He in his favourite chair, blowing his around

First she's Beatrice then she's a
Then she's a faded leaf in a on his pantry shelf

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he's thinking and thinking
Whatchu