Luyện nghe bài hát Personal Journalist

Sage
Journalist

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

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

A bleeding knows the science. He does the math quick and writes
having to think twice.
Without asking for advice. the scalps peel.
Having brains picked by lice before the scabs heal.

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

And not even half of the nutshell cats are compelled
to open to extract his blood cells from.
When he comes back hell again,
have a few bones to pick with a fractured skeleton.

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

Word is the worthless wordsmiths were impersonal twists.
Heard concerned with making the Earth shift.
kid games 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 life who he loved.
The hardest workers in showbiz need no studded glove.
"His time is up!" He's still the type poised to a come back.
the white noise until the sun's black.
Moonwalk around New York and get murdered by flocks of sheep,
Who square dance circles a box of beats.
The California sequences end quick.
Couldn't find middle ground in little towns on some trip.
He stood for something...but fell for every in the book, so he stopped believing...
In an garden of Eden.
"Get off the cross!" Of course we need the wood to burn a heathen.
him red handed...only if his palms are bleeding.

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

It's been a pleasure. It's 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 sunshine
Get out my face.