Luyện nghe bài hát Non-Objective Portrait Of Karma

Ignorance is bliss no wise failed to mention
and surely some koan suggests 'neglect leads to
but the more I turn my from the crowd
the I feel my backs' increasingly compelled
for the of escape, to turn a knife on itself,
a knife of relief, all the petty insight
and finally I'll sleep, I'll through the night.
Bored as fuck on street corner-cover.
study of a face in a figure. surveying language as a game
surveilence of this as the plague.
the dimension of condemns.
This of karma, crafted in accident
text book seduction, minus the text in the of ghosts
and so we ran, the wolves were biting,
the inhibitions of prey kept them from screaming
"scratch my back and I will you in yours"
so I chose to live this life alone, without the teeth
but I predict, I'll have to sink my fangs in someone else's heart to my own.
just a split, one part for the wolves, one part for you.
but I'll grow weary soon, of this fractal code,
weary of this lined with ghosts.
just a scratch upon the skin, a of blood to let them in
words will cause the sweetest fracture from a stone's throw
just a scratch upon the skin, a drop of blood to welcome
parasitic, critics, or lovers, like spirits mingling in the mist
that we crafted, a starving jury, let them eat from our trembling hands.
The heat for heat's sake, on this Barnard block of
deductively speaking, the of progress
well I put too much faith in the accident
entranced, we danced toward the display of escape
let the starving ghosts feats, this flesh, from these bones,
let them all feast. light as a feather, stand back let the starving ghosts feast In this chess of language, forced to sit so I play all alone, watch the bathos drift forth like the petals from a wild crafted rose.