Luyện nghe bài hát The Modern Adventures of Plato, Diogenes, and Freud

Father of my morning, once my child to the
I see you have minds to cop
And I can only watch sickened sorrow

Little do you of the progressions that you teach
The that you reach are tired
Of livin' in a of elastic towers

You with them and sing a song of changes
And talk with them of and all its dangers
yourself with now familiar strangers
Who and who hug and eventually mug you of your time

And the clock on the is a bore
As you wander past the door and find him on the floor
As he begs you for some more, you smile

You cannot ever picture me, you me by my thoughts
A file for travelogue, oblivious to the night
The fog you

The germs, they are ridiculous, they bother you at
The that rushes to your brain
The ticket on the plane never catching

The price you pay of your taxes
To chop you up inside with axes
The looks up to you from floors she waxes
And speaks to your belt with among her eyes

And the clock on the is a bore
As you wander past the door and find him lying on the
As he begs you for more, you frozen smile

The wrinkles in the face of what you face
Are hidden by the man
Who lives inside the can beside you

Now climb ye to the
As the sun is almost escaping from your other selves
Your brothers among the shelves inside you

The that people play can only bore you
But only those that know you ignore you
And how many times have I come there to you
And you lying on the couch with father time

And the on the wall is a bore
As you wander past the and find him lying on the floor
As he begs you for some more, you smile