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

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

There was a syrup dripping off
His lap danced lapel, by her
prowl she washed down the hatching
Gizzard soft as a mane of
His orifice hemorrhaged
By combing her to a pile
Perspired the shelves made room for his collapse
She was a mink hand job in heels

me to my knees
Read the sharpened
All my arms,
me blind
Faucet leaks in
from morgue lancet
Caressed fontanelle
sworn to kill every last one
Every one
in the shakes of the wounded
Panic in the
the floor
And out of your
Out of eyelids

No no light, in the darkest
Of your reaches
No no light, in the darkest
Of furthest reaches

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

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

Shock shackles free you
face cons
abandon you
I won't feel not time

lest shackles free you
Volt cons
you again
I won't feel not this