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 know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and by a guilty conscience,
runnin' away, and all of silly 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 get me a dog for some 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 dark and headaches,
Maybe if I meditate, 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 guesses I reken
and I'm to taking chances.
Breakin' a few branches, and 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 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.
curious the way I've tried vicariously,
to fly so low to the and so carelessly.
How embarassing, I can't to call it quits,
that more and more tiring is all it gets.
I've various and unique strategies,
Read a few tragedies and fasted for two weeks.
Been around
in the in the ground
no surprise my eyes
are shut, I'm stranded with no supplies.

I a lift...

What I done?