Luyện nghe bài hát The Calendar Hung Its Self

Does he your eyelids in the morning
when you to raise your head?
And does he sing to you
from the place your bed and wall?
Does he around all day at school
with his feet inside shoes?
Looking down every few
to pretend he with you.
Does he know that place below neck
is your favourite to be touched
and he cry through broken sentences
like I love you far too
he lay awake listening to your breath?
Worried that you smoke too cigarettes.
Is he now
on a bathroom
For speck of tile
are a thousand more
that you ever see
but most hold inside
eternally.

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

I kissed a girl with a jaw
her father gave to her.
She had eyes enough to burn me.
reminded me of yours.
In a story told she was a little
in a red-rouge, sun-bruised
and there were rows of ripe
a secret was concealed.
And it rose thunder,
clapped our hands.
And it for centuries
to a diary end
I wrote,
You me happy
the skies are grey
You make me
the are grey
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 who have left
there are a few stayed.
And found me here
and me from the grass
I was laid.