Luyện nghe bài hát Personal Journalist

Sage
Journalist

He left deep breaths in each chest that needs less innovating,
they're still debating over what "rhyme skill" is.
Got Sick of Waiting...for time to get over their murder raps.
he sold his own shirt off his back

For cheap exposure. He'd for closure but stayed open minded.
Always seemed to keep composure over both his eyelids.
vulgar in misleading cultures of ultra-violence.
Teaching how to be more loving through brotherly guidance.

A bleeding soldier knows the science. He does the math quick and
Without to think twice.
Without for advice. Letting the scalps peel.
Having brains picked by head lice before the heal.

His death conceals his face paint.
It feels like a place, but it ain't.
Feels it safety seals fates, but it don't.
He's not a real saint. another one of those religious, political jokes.

And that's not half of the nutshell cats are compelled
to crack open to extract his cells from.
When he comes back hell again,
You'll have a few to pick with a fractured skeleton.

Francis
Anti-socialite.
Admirer.
Loaner.
Drifter.
Bootlegger.
Doctor.
Referentialist.
Runner.
Journalist.

Word is the worthless were conversing impersonal twists.
Heard they're concerned with making the shift.
These kid are silly. When all art is signed anonymous,
He'll turn that Big Bang Theory a Small Pop Hypothesis.

Francis.
Merchant.

son...father to none...

Husband to something soulless and didn't spend his with who he loved.
The hardest workers in showbiz need no diamond glove.
"His is up!" He's still the type poised to make a come back.
the white noise until the sun's black.
Moonwalk around New City and get murdered by flocks of sheep,
Who square circles inside a box of beats.
The California Dream end quick.
Couldn't find middle ground in little on some Midwest trip.
He stood for something...but for every trick in the book, so he stopped believing...
In an garden of Eden.
"Get off the cross!" Of we need the wood to burn a Godless heathen.
him red handed...only if his palms are bleeding.

Sage
Non-Prophet.
Intelligent.
Avant Guardian Dust Mite.

It's a pleasure. It's been a pleasure

But get out of my weathered face with all sunshine
Get out my weathered face with all sunshine
Get out my weathered face with all that
Get out my face.