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

There was a frail dripping off
His lap lapel, punctuated by her
prowl she washed down the hatching
Gizzard as a mane of needles
His icicles hemorrhaged
By her torso to a pile
Perspired the trophy made room for his collapse
She was a mink hand job in heels

me to my knees
Read the lines
All my arms,
Bled me
leaks in shadows
Spilling from lancet
Caressed your
sworn to kill every last one
Every one
in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the
Onto the
And out of mouth
Out of your

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

All dreams, splintered off
Leech by leech on this
Anyone will tell you, yes
Chance had me setting a trip wire
mother flirted with disease
When she that costume by it's navel strings
Panic in the of the wounded
in the worms, onto the floor
And out of mouth
And out of eyelids

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

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

lest shackles free you
Volt face
abandon you
I won't feel not this