Luyện nghe bài hát Parameters

Thirty-three years go by and not once do you come
To find a man sitting in your
That is, a man you know
Who came a long way to deliver one specific message
your back door, you idiot
However invincible you imagine to be, you are wrong

Thirty-three go by
And you loosen the momentum of nightmares
Your breasts hang like a
And you don't jump at shadows
Instead you may simply to admire
Those that move with the grace of trees past streetlights

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

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

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

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

New as you are, really, to the that
Even after you've long since gotten to the parameters
can all change
While you're out one having a drink with a friend
big hand may be turning a big dial
Switching channels on your
Until you find lost in them
And watching daily life with the sound off

And of course having cautiously turned down the flame under your
There are more shadows everything
vision, a dim flashlight
That you to shake all the way to the outhouse
Your solitude elevating itself the spirit of the dead
Presiding over your supposed repose, not really at all
Just a sleeping and a series of suspicious sounds
A clanking pipe, a creaking branch, the of a cat

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