Luyện nghe bài hát The Tugboat Complex

Oh my God
They've got angels sweatin' like
workin' their halos to the bone combing them deserts
my figure eight
lifeline defined
the way my schoolin' end-less-ly every day
one exquisite fitted crisis an octagon of red
to the above my bed
it's not a conversation piece, like spectacles
unleashed more of a
so when I up to the rains I'll be one step ahead of you
I slide Kodakrome(?)
wrote a for every planet
tracked their mileage the sun in an envelope
licked it, it
got eight thank yous in the mail, but nine planets means there's one
only the earth would me later with a breath taking sunset
(man, I'm a bum)
zip that waterfall around skeleton
tell it to
loyalties, the in the soil
dig it, I split my lip the winter
nursed the in the sun
a hammock between spring and where the willows turn to blood
might of
sip a little, it, love it
big beetles trying to sell him sunflower seeds by the bucket
might of, for the boxcutter above those ashes
without hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger
and I'm you
to let a lacerate a caption
out massive
apolster plastic with famine patches
i-dentify all saints linked around the fountain's
and for a second taste of pain when removing that crown of
?????,???,???, hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochist
stamp the on ??? ???
my fire escape overlooks town market place
artists bought out
fast themselves to the target's face
you're me

if I had a hammer, I'd a city on stilts
so my feet would stay dry when God's glass tilts

if I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the
and I'll be hiding when his drunken stupor upon earth

and if your wing is broken
I'll see the in hell
I can't afford another in a cell
my carousel the interests of a thousand leaking spickets
and a colony of raised to justify the grimace
(and yes I the treaty)
I prescribe the plus the premises
my pin cushion, my pushin' the knitting needle
evils, idle, peddle the greeting
the sleepers feed the cycles
stop, watch the eagles board the little engine that not
in a shell
and it in my lap
passin', the bail but the guard has misplaced the key ring (that's
wonderful)
I lead a to blaze exact songs directly into the village
power supply burning the bridge the magnet and my eye
now how many satisfy a mad man?
and how many crooked turn plesantville to bad land?
I can my own dusty nickels with you laughing
about you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy with cane
(well, right)
grip your pointed stick, your riot
sell your worth in a bottle at profit, explain my bias
atomic box cult, spiral rapidly
cast to hell with hate mail, forged autograph
laughed itself, catastrophe
my lip
skin and bones,
on rancid baits
mummified inside a muddy New York minute
was it
remnants my smoke rings have cocooned prior to fading?
well, it wasn't spite but it might have been that

I am not your friend
my head dissertation(?)
when bed sleepers occupy the basement
and I am not friend anymore
come the dawning of cerulean your blend that whispers in the wind

man, if it were only that
I'd add a guilt to my core
I'd board myself inside my to trace the wilting contour
one petal to the rug, she loves me not
town crier lugging a box with spirit plugs
and a red radio
tied to like twenty burning igloos with a sailors knot
fiddler crabs build sandcastles high tide off azalea crops
in the icicle field I portray, cats get
and ask 'why if every is dark do I continue dancing?'

why if light is dark do I continue dancing?

why if every is dark do I continue dancing?

why if every light is do I continue dancing?
well if it ain't a question that's worth answering

I boogie for the
for the purity, the
for my childhood
for the comic in my heart
the mocked
the clarity, passion,
those cool nights
for the mark emerging across the street selling me stog's at half
for the mights, the maybes, the nauseating
my girl, my
for the fact my opens towards a brick wall
for the three legged dog I saw dragged on a
for the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms plastic bags on
his
see I throw away the tenders one shoulder
and walk across broken
through every wicked to kiss tomorrow's morning
not for
drown in a pool of your crooked morals
whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to

maybe, no