Luyện nghe bài hát Piano

Three times this week
I was suppose to be a star
I beat you when I'm drunk
only pretty when you're crying

We are to be
The to set the air afire
times alone this week
I was made into a

Whether I the gold
I never
Richer, I
white, I

I wear shoes that men from desert to riches
me what you got, girl
And it because it itches

Call me Chameleon and set air afire
Three times alone week
I was to be a liar

I found the gold
I told
Richer, I
white, I

Maybe not, why the
Would I lie about that which I am
did I say to you?

Step into a pot of
in fire
That which soon gold
did I say to you?

Maybe not, why the
Would I lie about that which I am
did I say to you?

Step into a pot of
Rejoice in
which soon burns gold
What did I say to

And I deny
The love, the throat,
And I deny it
I've got to my P M A