Luyện nghe bài hát The Calendar Hung Its Self

Does he kiss your in the morning
when you start to raise your
And does he to you incessantly
from the place between bed and wall?
Does he walk around all day at
with his inside your shoes?
Looking every few steps
to pretend he walks you.
he know that place below your neck
that is 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 too many cigarettes.
Is he now
on a floor?
For speck of tile
there are a more
that you ever see
but most hold yourself
eternally.

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

I a girl with a broken jaw
that her father to her.
She had eyes bright enough to me.
reminded me of yours.
In a told she was a little girl
in a red-rouge, sun-bruised
and there were rows of tomatoes
a secret was concealed.
And it like thunder,
under 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 towards the calendar hanging itself
but I not weep for those dying days.
For all the ones who left
there are a few stayed.
And they me here
and pulled me from the
I was laid.