Luyện nghe bài hát The Awful Ache

Esmerelda in love every Saturday
And on Sunday don't remember a thing
And the gringos are all saints of the day, that's the way
And it a little pain out of the sting

Holy water tastes as sweet as
Holy wine tastes like blood
drinking for loss, for the man on the cross
She says no more, the awful

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

her kisses are as sweet as wine
And her kisses like myrrh
Her love is lost the man on the cross
And no more, the ache

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

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