Luyện nghe bài hát Miranda That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore: Pour Another Icepick

I think I've become one of the others
I think I've like one of the others
I think I've become one of the others

There was a frail dripping off
His lap lapel, punctuated by her
Decrepit prowl she washed down the
Gizzard soft as a mane of
His icicles hemorrhaged
By combing her torso to a
Perspired the trophy shelves made room for his
She was a mink hand job in sarcophagus

Bring me to my
Read the sharpened
All my arms,
Bled me
Faucet leaks in
Spilling morgue lancet
Caressed fontanelle
I've to kill every last one
Every one
in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the
the floor
And out of your
Out of your

No there's no light, in the
Of your furthest
No there's no light, in the
Of furthest reaches

All your dreams, off
Leech by on this catafalque
will tell you, yes anyone
Chance had me a trip wire alarm
Your flirted with disease
she skinned that costume by it's navel strings
Panic in the shakes of the
in the worms, onto the floor
And out of your
And out of eyelids

No there's no light, in the
Of your reaches
No there's no light, in the
Of your furthest
No there's no light, in the
Of furthest reaches

Shock shackles free you
Volt face
you again
I won't not this time

Shock lest free you
Volt face
you again
I won't feel not this