Luyện nghe bài hát Non-Objective Portrait Of Karma

Ignorance is bliss no wise failed to mention
and surely some koan 'neglect leads to perfection'
but the more I turn my face from the
the I feel my backs' increasingly compelled
for the sake of escape, to turn a on itself,
a knife of relief, from all the insight
and finally I'll sleep, I'll sleep the night.
Bored as fuck on street corner-cover.
study of a face in a figure. surveying this as a game
of this language as the plague.
the of persistence condemns.
This of karma, crafted in accident
text book seduction, minus the in the language of ghosts
and so we ran, the wolves were biting,
the inhibitions of prey kept them from screaming
"scratch my and I will stab you in yours"
so I chose to live this life alone, the teeth marks
but I predict, I'll have to my fangs in someone else's heart to heal my own.
just a split, one part for the wolves, one part for you.
but I'll grow soon, weary of this fractal code,
weary of this hallway lined ghosts.
just a scratch upon the skin, a drop of to let them in
their words will cause the sweetest fracture from a throw
just a scratch upon the skin, a drop of blood to them
parasitic, viral critics, or lovers, like spirits in the mist
that we crafted, a starving jury, let them eat from our trembling hands.
The heat for sake, on this Barnard block of Congress
deductively speaking, the of progress
well maybe I put too much in the accident
entranced, we danced the ripest display of escape
let the starving ghosts feats, from this flesh, these bones,
let them all feast. light as a feather, stand back let the starving ghosts feast In this chess game of language, forced to sit so I play all alone, watch the bathos drift forth like the petals from a crafted rose.