Luyện nghe bài hát Rat's Ass/Customs

Standin' on the side of the road 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 on the inside, they don't know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and by a guilty conscience,
away, and all because of silly nonsense.
Gone - God knows when,
and I comin' back knowin' 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, even if it means there.
Maybe I'll get me a dog for company,
better than tryin' to figure out somebody.
Give me a book, a radio, and a sewing machine,
a place in the woods by the 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 if my wishes are overly romantic.
Though, the too low in the sky for second guesses I reken
and I'm to taking chances.
Breakin' a few branches, and lucky now and then,
findin' trouble, was just a matter of how and when.
And now I take notes, and make boats from bark
but still shows in my face 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 curious the way I've vicariously,
to fly so low to the and so carelessly.
How embarassing, I can't wait to it quits,
knowing that more and tiring is all it gets.
I've applied various and strategies,
Read a few Greek tragedies and for two weeks.
Been around
in the in the ground
no both my eyes
are shut, I'm stranded with no supplies.

I a lift...

have I done?