Luyện nghe bài hát Sycamore

The scent of autumn nights, when the leaves quite
if they are red or green, or something in between.

Birds and are all the same, with only one change:
Birds can make the to fly against the breeze with which the leaves remain.

Could a rose by any other name sound as sweet when coupled the blame?
Over fields the sun is trying hard to show it's still shining,
But I felt it on my skin.

I'm no good at documenting without embellishment;
Can't turn thoughts a song if no one cares what it all meant.

When did this so hard? Can't find footing for a start.
I'll anywhere to find that which seems to make me lose my mind.

Minutes blur to hours to days. Seasons pass, I'm left to watch the haze.
Weekends I don't remember, ties I never had to had to sever.
Conscious, yes but than that, I'm dazed.

rise of smoke and ash, brazenly against the clash
All self-interest, no self-worth, could time away be any to me?

Does the sycamore by the pond stand? Does the sycamore by the pond still stand?
Underneath, the leaves have fallen; are both the sun and pollen
Flowers wilt and die to show the forward, slowly.
I got up and fell back down again. Stagnancy is more just a friend.

(Can anybody hear me? Is listening?) x5

the sycamore by the pond still stand?
Does the sycamore by the pond stand?