Luyện nghe bài hát Rat's Ass/Customs

Standin' on the side of the road with a 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 on the inside, they don't know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and by a guilty conscience,
runnin' away, and all because of nonsense.
since - God knows when,
and I aint back knowin' that, no one gives a rat's ass anyway.

I just find a place where I can sit in a rocking chair,
no how far, even if it means walking there.
Maybe I'll get me a dog for company,
better than tryin' to figure out somebody.
Give me a good book, a radio, and a machine,
a in the woods by the ocean and no inbetween.
I gotta get rid of these dark and headaches,
if I meditate, rather than medicate.
I can no hesitate, I get so frantic,
but if my wishes are overly romantic.
Though, the suns too low in the sky for second I reken
and I'm used to chances.
Breakin' a few branches, and gettin' now and then,
some trouble, was just a matter of how and when.
And now I notes, and make boats from Burch bark
but stress still shows in my face a birthmark.
As soon as I get where I'm going I'm to wash my hands thoroughly
and start out of bed earlier.
it's curious the way 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 and unique strategies,
a few Greek tragedies and fasted for two weeks.
Been rollin'
in the in the ground
no both my eyes
are swollen shut, I'm stranded no supplies.

I a lift...

have I done?