Luyện nghe bài hát Parameters

Thirty-three years go by and not once do you home
To find a man sitting in bedroom
is, a man you don't know
Who came a way to deliver one very specific message
Lock back door, you idiot
However invincible you yourself to be, you are wrong

Thirty-three go by
And you loosen the of teenage nightmares
Your breasts like a woman's
And you don't at shadows anymore
Instead you may simply to admire
Those that move with the of trees dancing past streetlights

And you walk through house without turning on lamps
Sure of the angle from door to table, from to staircase
Sure of the of steps, seven to the landing
Two to turn right then more
Sure you will stroll serenely on the walkway of memory
Across your bedroom and collapse a sigh onto your bed

Shoes falling thunk onto the floor
And there will be no man, suddenly all that time sitting there
Sitting on what must be the prize chair
In your collection of uncomfortable chairs with a wild look in his
And hands that you cannot see, holding You do not know

So sure are you of the endless drumming rhythm of isolation
That you are painfully slow to
If only yours is not that genre of story
and again, life cannot muster the stuff of movies
No bullets shattering glass fear sits patiently
Fear smiles when you finally see him

Though you have kept him waiting for thirty-three
And now he has let in
And he has brought you fistfuls of nightmares
you think you see, in your naivete that he is empty handed
And this you great relief at the time

New as you are, really, to the that
after you've long since gotten used to the parameters
They can all
While you're out one night having a with a friend
Some big hand may be turning a big
Switching channels on dreams
Until you find yourself lost in
And watching your daily life with the off

And of having cautiously turned down the flame under your eyes
There are more around everything
vision, a dim flashlight
That you have to shake all the way to the
solitude elevating itself like the spirit of the dead
Presiding over your repose, not really sleep at all
Just a sleeping and a series of suspicious sounds
A pipe, a creaking branch, the footfalls of a cat

All of this and
The swish of the leather of your intruder's coat
As you walk him by step back to the door
Having talked him down off the of a very bad idea
Soft leather, big feet, almond
The kinds of details the police would ask for later
With his clipboard and his pistol in hallway