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

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

was a frail syrup dripping off
His lap danced lapel, by her
Decrepit prowl she washed down the
soft as a mane of needles
His orifice icicles
By combing her torso to a
Perspired the trophy made room for his collapse
She was a hand job in sarcophagus heels

me to my knees
Read the lines
All my arms,
me blind
Faucet in shadows
from morgue lancet
Caressed fontanelle
I've sworn to kill last one
Every one
in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the
the floor
And out of mouth
Out of eyelids

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

All your dreams, off
Leech by leech on this
will tell you, yes anyone
Chance had me setting a trip alarm
Your mother flirted with
When she skinned that costume by navel strings
in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the worms, the floor
And out of mouth
And out of eyelids

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

Shock lest shackles you
face cons
abandon you
I feel not this time

Shock lest free you
Volt cons
abandon you
I feel not this time