Luyện nghe bài hát Pitchers Of Silence

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

had i known then what i now.
had i now what i knew then...
i still be human
with all the little fix-ins.
as i fix and vixens vick souls,
stitch clothes for the characters they play switch roles.
me to the cross dress.
the holy cloth less.
i'd less
if i still had your soft breasts to rest my on.
since been gone,
i recalled my with problems and hate
but i can't exactly the model or make.
now bottles break in my death grip.
i'm about to take the next exit and end this head trip.
my bed's of its blankets, comforters, pillows and sheets,
but i might have to peel off all my skin to remove your 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 when you weren't there. but to keep from feeling guilty,
i the dirt (collected the dirt)...kept it piling up.
now mr. feel saves his tears inside of a cup
and he drinks (and he drinks). and he forgets that an asshole.
of his ghosts and doubts he even has a soul.

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

i'm in a stranger's tub...
with all my clothes on...shivering...considering the of love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

i've got mud to sling...

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