Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

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

By 5:30, she's there,
And the back's already hurtin' from the buses chair.
"Live to work, to live, to work, to live."
She's gotta feed the kid and it all she's got to give.
Plus she's catch a little overtime,
If she stays 4 she could be home by 5.
Shuts her for the rest of the route,
And the head-phones loud to drown everything out
But the old song:

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

Seems like nobody even knew his huh?
If he disappeared would even 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.
he looks 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 that murder a fly.
I you get used to the life,
Maybe why he refuses to cry.
it on the chin,
it in stride,
What dosn't break you makes you stronger right?

So he by himself on the school bus,
Hoping today he wouldn't have to put his dukes up.
But just like any other here they come to off with his comfort can't wait for summer.
It's the same old

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

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

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

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