Luyện nghe bài hát Parameters

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

Thirty-three go by
And you loosen the momentum of nightmares
Your hang like a woman's
And you don't jump at anymore
Instead you may pause 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 door to table, from table to staircase
Sure of the of steps, seven to the landing
Two to turn right then more
you will stroll serenely on the moving walkway of memory
Across your bedroom and collapse with a sigh your bed

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

So sure are you of the endless drumming rhythm of your
That you are slow to adjust
If only because yours is not that of story
Still and again, life cannot the stuff of movies
No bullets shattering glass fear sits patiently
Fear almost when you finally see him

Though you have him waiting for thirty-three years
And now he has let in
And he has brought you fistfuls of teenage
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 idea
Even after long since gotten used to the parameters
They can all
While you're out one night having a drink a friend
big hand may be turning a big dial
Switching channels on your
you find yourself lost in them
And watching daily life with the sound off

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

All of and maybe
The swish of the soft leather of your coat
As you walk him step by step back to the
Having talked him off the ledge of a very bad idea
Soft leather, big feet, eyes
The kinds of details the officer would ask for later
With his and his pistol in your hallway