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 minute
If she in by 6, she'll catch another pink-slip.
And that's 3, and means FIRED,
A coffee thermice in the purse to 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 already hurtin' from the buses 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 catch a little overtime,
If she 'til 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 old song:

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

Seems like nobody even knew his huh?
If he disappeared would they see the blank spot?
The only kids who might notice are the ones who push him up and the hallways and in the lunch rooms.
he looks at his bruises,
He wants to come to school with a gun like kids on the news did.
Nah man, they deserve to die,
And he's the type of kid couldn't murder a fly.
I guess you get to the life,
Maybe that's why he to cry.
it on the chin,
it in stride,
What dosn't break you just makes you right?

So he sits by on the school bus,
Hoping 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.
the same old song:

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

Woke up at the of dawn when the city's blood-line starts to waste along.
The generator on those public buses is enough to bust you out of any daydream stuck in.
I that's the chance you takin' when you camp 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 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 down the gutter
parents gone, no sisters, no brothers.
Weak memories, paranoia,
While the song repeats in his head
and over and over and over it goes:

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