Luyện nghe bài hát The Awful Ache

Esmerelda falls in every Saturday
And on Sunday morning remember a thing
And the gringos are all saints of the day, that's the way
And it takes a pain out of the sting

Holy water as sweet as wine
Holy tastes just like blood
She's drinking for loss, for the man on the
She says no more, the ache

And in her there's a mirror there
Sometimes it don't reflect a
And from the street he her silhouette
And he can't

That her are as sweet as wine
And her kisses taste myrrh
Her love is lost like the man on the
And no more, the awful

Esmerelda on down to the cemetery
And he's waiting for her in the
With the and the sad old trees, patiently
But she walks right his grave

She's crying for loss, for the man on the
She says no more, the ache
She's for loss and the man on the cross
She no more, the awful ache