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

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

Bring me to my
the sharpened lines
All my arms,
Bled me
leaks in shadows
Spilling from morgue
Caressed fontanelle
I've sworn to kill last one
last one
Panic in the shakes of the
in the worms
Onto the
And out of mouth
Out of eyelids

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

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

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

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

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