Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

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

By 5:30, halfway there,
And the back's hurtin' from 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.
Plus she's tryin'a a little overtime,
If she 'til 4 she could be home by 5.
her eyes for the rest of the route,
And keeps the loud to drown everything out
But the same old

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

Seems like even knew his name huh?
If he disappeared would they even see the blank
The only kids who might notice are the ones who push him up and down the hallways and in the rooms.
he looks at his bruises,
He wants to come to with a gun like those kids on the news did.
Nah man, don't deserve to die,
And he's the of kid that couldn't murder a fly.
I you get used to the life,
that's why he refuses to cry.
it on the chin,
it in stride,
What break you just makes you stronger right?

So he sits by himself on the bus,
that today he wouldn't have to put his dukes up.
But like any other here they come to fuck 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, not another 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 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 from region.
But when the starts to whisper its lips he knows enough to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits.

Childhood dreams washed the gutter
Both gone, no sisters, no brothers.
Weak memories, paranoia,
While the song repeats in his head
over and over and over and 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 day of the same old song cumon.
Whoa, not another day...