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

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

There was a frail syrup off
His lap lapel, punctuated by her
Decrepit prowl she washed the hatching
Gizzard as a mane of needles
His icicles hemorrhaged
By combing her to a pile
Perspired the shelves made room for his collapse
She was a mink hand job in sarcophagus

Bring me to my
Read the lines
All my arms,
Bled me
Faucet leaks in
Spilling from morgue
your fontanelle
I've to kill every last one
Every one
Panic in the of the wounded
Panic in the
Onto the
And out of mouth
Out of eyelids

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

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

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

Shock lest free you
face cons
abandon you
I won't feel not this

Shock shackles free you
Volt face
you again
I feel not this time