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 that's 3, and means FIRED,
A coffee thermice in the purse to her keep wired.
The day-care she drops the baby off,
thank God it's on the block as the bus-stop.

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

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

like 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 and in the lunch rooms.
Sometimes he at his bruises,
He wants to come to school with a gun like those 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,
that's why he refuses to cry.
it on the chin,
it in stride,
What break you just makes 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 his comfort can't wait for summer.
the same old song:

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

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

Childhood dreams washed the gutter
parents gone, no sisters, no brothers.
Weak memories, paranoia,
the same song repeats in his head
over and over and over and it goes:

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