Luyện nghe bài hát The Calendar Hung Its Self

Does he kiss eyelids in the morning
you start to raise your head?
And does he to you incessantly
the place between your bed and wall?
Does he walk all day at school
with his feet inside shoes?
Looking down few steps
to he walks with you.
Does he that place below your neck
that is your favourite to be
and does he cry through sentences
I love you far too much?
Does he lay awake to your breath?
Worried that you smoke too cigarettes.
Is he now
on a bathroom
For every speck of
there are a more
that you ever see
but hold inside yourself
eternally.

I drug your ghost the country
and we out my death.
In city, memories would whisper,
is where you rest.
I was in Chicago
but I dug my teeth into my
and I for a telephone
and sang your machine.
You are my sunshine, my sunshine

I kissed a with a broken jaw
that her gave to her.
She had eyes enough to burn me.
They me of yours.
In a story told she was a girl
in a red-rouge, field
and were rows of ripe tomatoes
where a was concealed.
And it like thunder,
clapped our hands.
And it for centuries
to a entry's end
I wrote,
You make me
the skies are grey
You me happy
the skies are
and
and grey.

the clock's heart it hangs inside its open chest
with its hands stretched towards the calendar hanging
but I not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who have
there are a few stayed.
And they me here
and pulled me the grass
I was laid.