Luyện nghe bài hát The Fine Art Of Making It Out Alive

Kiss me on the angel
I go to sleep
I remember if its Thursday or December
I've been keeping track of by counting hangovers
And the bottles on my
My mangled memory is making me mistake misfortune for
I don't think I'll it out alive
So me that you'll survive to bury me

Just empty all the
And chronicle the
But don't the cigarettes
Remember every

Alright, I admit that past few months were and abused
Now I'm used to the and unspoken words that kept me so confused
Maybe we can get these addictions
But the piling up are a whole other story
Unless stomach's strong enough(2x)

Maybe we can get past addictions
But the piling up

So me that you'll survive to bury me

Hell, we can just pretend
That this wont depend on moderation
And in the end the routine won'e leave me dead(2x)
Just empty all the alcohol...or baby dead

Tomorrow we'll up in time to stop this double suicide
Through kisses laced cyanide
ANd one last look bloodshot eyes

I guess this is what they call yourself in small dose(2x)