Luyện nghe bài hát Rat's Ass/Customs

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

I just wanna find a place where I can sit in a chair,
no how far, even if it means walking there.
Maybe I'll get me a dog for company,
it's than tryin' to figure out somebody.
me a good book, a radio, and a sewing machine,
a in the woods 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 wishes are romantic.
Though, the suns too low in the sky for second I reken
and I'm used to chances.
a few branches, and gettin' lucky now and then,
findin' some trouble, was a matter of how and when.
And now I take notes, and make from Burch bark
but stress still shows in my like a birthmark.
As soon as I get where I'm going I'm going to my hands thoroughly
and getting 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 to call it quits,
knowing that more and more is all it gets.
I've applied various and strategies,
Read a few tragedies and fasted for two weeks.
Been around
in the in the ground
no surprise my eyes
are swollen shut, I'm with no supplies.

I a lift...

What I done?