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

Could this be the end? the media
out message sent, and pass the bottle now
I'll wreck not unlike the way you saw me yesterday
I'll wreck today and over laughing with the pain
those fears at the door and hang around a while
I'll lose this heart from my just to see what 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 neither poet nor a
But I got a guitar and a way to kill an now
I got no fucking pity for the fools who broke eyes
Trying to a whole culture down to size
Check those fears at the door and around a while
I'll lose this heart from my sleeve just to see burns
Is this a question of what fell or just a statement of sells
And can anyone say there's no stiff drinks in hell?
national chemistry, it's bigger than you and me
While fighting for control now have we touch with who we are
Do you lover telling your war stories while hiding scars?