Luyện nghe bài hát Rat's Ass/Customs

Standin' on the side of the road a long shadow and suitcases,
going nowhere, and I don't care, I'm a man.
Hold my own hand, my own ass for cryin',
I'm on the inside, they don't know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and haunted by a conscience,
runnin' away, and all because of nonsense.
Gone - God knows when,
and I aint comin' back that, no one gives a rat's ass anyway.

I wanna find a place where I can sit in a rocking chair,
no matter how far, if it means walking there.
Maybe I'll get me a dog for company,
it's better tryin' to figure out somebody.
me a good book, a radio, and a sewing machine,
a place in the by the ocean and no inbetween.
I gotta get rid of these circles and headaches,
if I meditate, rather than medicate.
I can no hesitate, I get so frantic,
but what if my are overly romantic.
Though, the too low in the sky for second guesses I reken
and I'm used to chances.
a few branches, and gettin' lucky now and then,
findin' trouble, was just a matter of how and when.
And now I take notes, and make boats Burch bark
but stress shows in my face like a birthmark.
As soon as I get where I'm going I'm going to my hands thoroughly
and start out of bed earlier.
it's the way I've tried vicariously,
to fly so low to the and so carelessly.
How embarassing, I can't wait to it quits,
that more and more tiring is all it gets.
I've applied various and strategies,
Read a few tragedies and fasted for two weeks.
Been rollin'
in the in the ground
no surprise my eyes
are swollen shut, I'm stranded no supplies.

I a lift...

have I done?