Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

She the bus at 5:06
That's in the AM for all you little kids.
And it's a 45 minute
If she aint in by 6, she'll another pink-slip.
And 3, and that means FIRED,
A coffee thermice in the purse to her keep wired.
The where she drops the baby off,
thank God it's on the block as the bus-stop.

By 5:30, she's there,
And the back's already hurtin' from the plastic chair.
"Live to work, to live, to work, to live."
She's gotta feed the kid and give it all got to give.
Plus 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 the head-phones loud to drown everything out
But the same old

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

Seems nobody even knew his name huh?
If he would they even see the blank 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 to school 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 guess you get 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 sits by on the school bus,
that today he wouldn't have to put his dukes up.
But just like any other here come to fuck off with his comfort can't wait for summer.
It's the same old

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

Woke up at the break of dawn when the city's blood-line starts to along.
The generator on those public buses is enough to bust you out of any daydream 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, that's why he always near the transportation.
Pan-handling, transient freedom. Transplant not this region.
But when the wind starts to whisper its lips he knows enough to pack it up and dip out 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 over it

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