Luyện nghe bài hát Pitchers Of Silence

i never held a funeral for that big of me that died.
i need to put these thoughts to rest. i need to a peace of mind.
i need to my mind, find a piece of mind to rest in.
need to find someone to in, and with the rest i need to start restin'.
needless to say, i hide.
grown men shouldn't cry.

had i known then what i now.
had i now what i knew then...
i might still be
all the little stupid fix-ins.
as i fix and vixens vick souls,
stitch clothes for the characters play then switch roles.
nail me to the dress.
the holy costs less.
i'd toss
if i still had your soft breasts to rest my on.
since you've gone,
i recalled my issues with and hate
but i can't exactly the model or make.
now glass bottles in my death grip.
i'm about to take the next quick exit and end head trip.
my bed's stripped of its blankets, comforters, and sheets,
but i might have to off all my skin to remove your scent in order to sleep.

i had my and lows.
when on top, i let you out over my nose.
sitting on my and i suppose if i had a backbone,
you might be here.
my is filthy...
from my lows when you weren't there. but to keep from guilty,
i collected the dirt (collected the dirt)...kept it up.
now mr. feel nothing his tears inside of a cup
and he drinks (and he drinks). and he that he's an asshole.
of his ghosts and doubts he even has a soul.

my secret pleasures have my demons gossiping.
i'm a ghost writer for the horrorcore my personal monsters sing.

i'm sitting in a tub...
all my clothes on...shivering...considering the dangers of love.

they get of what i have to give...if that.
it's all about the packaging. they're by the gift rap.

predictable. to manipulate.
they're foreshadow puppets and i'm waiting for strings to break.

the pillars that once held up my halfway house have taken out.
i'm in my last now.
a change coming soon.
i just want to crawl into my mother's womb.
i a comfort zone,
but obviously i need to find home
to call my own...and return to
and i it to be you (i want it to be you).

i sit and stare, zone out, think a lot and sleep,
creating memories to remember and i forget to eat.
went to the street you used to live on, staring at the bedroom window of old home
with eyes...waiting for god to throw me a bone.

i'd settle for one more kiss while i settle for less.
i'm unsettled at best. sulking while settlements.
my companions intelligence...conversing with baby talk.
practicing mind games. rehearsing with thought.

it's the way we fought that made my blood bubble turn cold,
when you made me walk through rain and mud on a dirt road.
it me so messy,
me...not.

i've got mud to sling...

shot.
"through the heart, and your to blame, you love a bad name."