Luyện nghe bài hát Portrait Of The Artist As A Fucking Asshole

Could this be the Alert the media
Holler out message sent, and the bottle now
I'll wreck today not unlike the way you saw me
I'll today and double over laughing with the pain
Check those at the door and hang around a while
I'll lose this heart from my sleeve just to see burns
Is this a question of what fell or a statement of what sells
And can really say there's no free drinks in hell?
I'm poet nor a babysitter
But I got a guitar and a way to an hour now
I got no fucking pity for the fools who broke eyes
Trying to break a whole culture down to
Check those fears at the door and around a while
I'll lose this heart from my sleeve to see what burns
Is this a question of fell or just a statement of what sells
And can anyone say there's no stiff drinks in hell?
This national chemistry, it's than you and me
While fighting for control now we lost touch with who we are
Do you lover telling your war stories while hiding your