Luyện nghe bài hát Nettles

He sank into their
And on the stench
Of arithmetic.
for the boy who was hanging his head low,
More trophies than ideas. To their pretence.

With a in his pocket and a smile on his face
He followed obidience
And in the Nettles.

Afterwards spikey whispers said he bought his own rope.
And skipped the they loathed.
Didn't scramble to a dock leaf to capture back our hope
To his mind had closed
He all of his footholes.

He was a toothpick!
And the garlic and the cinder the path
Had failed to or hinder the slow collapse
Clinging to the he was dragged
Off to a of where he had been.