Luyện nghe bài hát May I Call You Beatrice

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sees the hand play with the ring in the pocket
And the head knows the hand knows the 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 wind cold
And the eyes of the grow old
When the erratic conga rises and
Above the faithful
You can take me to the gravestone

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

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

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

And he's thinking and thinking
thinking?