Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

She caught the bus at
in the AM for all you little trust-fund kids.
And it's a 45 minute
If she aint in by 6, she'll another pink-slip.
And that's 3, and means FIRED,
A coffee thermice in the purse to help her wired.
The where she drops the baby off,
thank God on the same block as the bus-stop.

By 5:30, halfway there,
And the back's already hurtin' the buses plastic chair.
"Live to work, to live, to work, to live."
She's feed the kid and give it all she's got to give.
she's tryin'a catch a little overtime,
If she 'til 4 she could be home by 5.
Shuts her for the rest of the route,
And keeps the loud to drown everything out
But the same old

(Chorus)
Whoa, not another day.
Not day of the same old song.
Whoa, Whoa not day.

Seems nobody even knew his name huh?
If he disappeared would they see the blank spot?
The only kids who might notice are the ones who him up and down the hallways and in the lunch rooms.
Sometimes he at his bruises,
He wants to come to with a gun like those kids on the news did.
Nah man, they deserve to die,
And he's the type of kid couldn't murder a fly.
I guess you get to the life,
Maybe that's why he to cry.
it on the chin,
it in stride,
What dosn't break you just you stronger right?

So he sits by on the school bus,
Hoping that today he have to put his dukes up.
But just like any other here come to fuck off with his comfort can't wait for summer.
the same old song:

Whoa, not another day.
Not another day of the same old cumon.
Whoa, not another day.

Woke up at the break of dawn when the city's blood-line to waste along.
The generator on those public buses is enough to bust you out of any your stuck in.
I that's the chance you takin' when you camp out infront of that transfer station.
And this town got no answers to chase man, that's why he always sleeps the transportation.
Pan-handling, transient freedom. Transplant not this region.
But when the starts to whisper its lips he knows enough to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits.

dreams washed down the gutter
Both gone, no sisters, no brothers.
memories, strong paranoia,
While the same song repeats in his
and over and over and over it goes:

Whoa, Whoa not day.
Not day of the same old song cumon.
Whoa, Whoa not day.
Not another day of the old song cumon.
Whoa, not another day.
Not another day of the old song cumon.
Whoa, Whoa not day...