Luyện nghe bài hát Sellers of Flowers

The of flowers buy up old roses
pull off dead petals, like old heads of lettuce
And sell 'em as new ones, for cheaper and
But die by the morning, so who is the winner

Not the roses, not the buyers, not the sellers, maybe

'Cause coming, soon after summer
It runs faster, faster, chasing off
We go a warm sun to only a white sun
We go from a large sun to only a one

When I was a small girl, I walked the market
Holding my hand, mitten-gloved hand
That night there were roses, lit up in glass
The heat lamps would keep from freezing in winter

We never bought them but must have
Maybe made it or maybe they froze up
any person had put them in water
And that they'd still be alive by the morning

Who's the
Not the roses, not the buyers, not the sellers,
Not the tellers, of the stories,
Not the fathers, not children,
Not those walking on a night,
Through a they're forgetting,
the winner, who's the winner
Maybe winter, winter

Somebody steps on a light a tunnel
They're holding a of their mind in the rubble
on, I won't let go, I want to know

But no one lives long enough to see the
To know any answers, to know what the is
To know if the ever came closer
Than on that night when I walked my father

A small of ice, lodged in my mind
Lodged in my thoughts, in my eyes
all around, cold all around
Warm inside, warm from inside

Who's the
Not the roses, not the buyers, not the sellers,
Not the tellers, of the stories,
Not the fathers, not children,
the winner
Not the roses, not the buyers, not the sellers,
Not the tellers, of the stories,
Not the fathers, not children,
Not walking on a dark night,
Through a memory forgetting,

Who's the winner, who's the
winter, maybe winter
Who's the winner, who's the
winter, maybe winter
Who's the winner, the winner