Luyện nghe bài hát Not Another Day

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

By 5:30, halfway there,
And the back's already hurtin' from the 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 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 loud to drown everything out
But the old song:

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

Seems like nobody knew his name huh?
If he disappeared would they even see the spot?
The only kids who might are the ones who push him up and down the hallways and in the lunch rooms.
Sometimes he at his bruises,
He wants to come to with a gun like those kids on the news did.
Nah man, they don't 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 sits by on the school bus,
Hoping that he wouldn't have to put his dukes up.
But just like any other 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 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 public buses is enough to bust you out of any daydream your stuck in.
I guess that's the you takin' when you camp out infront of that transfer station.
And town 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 to pack it up and dip out before the winter hits.

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

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