Luyện nghe bài hát May I Call You Beatrice

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

Thinking of the lost rib, dialing the
Thinking the unthinkable, no home

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

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

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

First she's Beatrice she's a pumpkin
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
the erratic conga rises and falls
Above the faithful
You can take me back to the

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

And the ring is getting heavy and so is the
Which she to the chair 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
Above the faithful
You can take me back to the

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

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

And he's thinking about the one who got
And thinking 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 thinking and thinking
Whatchu