Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

She the bus at 5:06
That's in the AM for all you 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 that FIRED,
A coffee thermice in the purse to her keep wired.
The where she drops the baby off,
God it's on the same block 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 the kid and give it all she's got to give.
she's tryin'a catch a little overtime,
If she stays 4 she could be home by 5.
Shuts her for the rest of the route,
And keeps the head-phones loud to drown out
But the same old

(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 they even see the blank spot?
The only kids who might notice are the who push him up and down the hallways and in the lunch rooms.
he looks at his bruises,
He wants to come to school 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 just you stronger right?

So he by himself on the school bus,
that today he wouldn't have to put his dukes up.
But just like any other here they come to fuck off with his comfort wait for summer.
It's the 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 guess that's the chance you takin' when you out infront of that transfer station.
And this got no answers to chase man, that's why he always sleeps near the transportation.
Pan-handling, transient freedom. Transplant not this region.
But when the wind starts to whisper its lips he knows enough to it up and dip out before the winter hits.

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

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