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, don't know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and by a guilty conscience,
away, and all because of silly nonsense.
Gone since - God 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 matter how far, even if it means there.
Maybe get me a dog for some company,
it's better tryin' to figure out somebody.
Give me a 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,
Maybe if I meditate, than medicate.
I can no hesitate, I get so frantic,
but what if my wishes are romantic.
Though, the too low in the sky for second guesses I reken
and I'm used to chances.
Breakin' a few branches, and lucky now and then,
some trouble, was just a matter of how and when.
And now I take notes, and make boats from 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 getting 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,
knowing that more and more is all it gets.
I've applied various and strategies,
Read a few Greek tragedies and for two weeks.
Been around
in the hole in the
no both my eyes
are shut, I'm stranded with no supplies.

I a lift...

What I done?