Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

She the bus at 5:06
in the AM for all you little trust-fund kids.
And it's a 45 trip
If she in by 6, she'll catch another pink-slip.
And that's 3, and means FIRED,
A coffee in the purse to help her keep wired.
The day-care she drops 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 tryin'a catch a overtime,
If she stays 'til 4 she could be 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 another day of the old song.
Whoa, not another day.

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

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

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

Woke up at the break of dawn the city's blood-line starts to waste along.
The generator on public buses is enough to bust you out of any daydream your stuck in.
I guess that's the chance you takin' when you camp out 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 from region.
But when the wind starts to whisper its lips he knows to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits.

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

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