Luyện nghe bài hát The Tugboat Complex

Oh my God
They've got angels like Helots
their little halos to the bone combing them deserts
my figure eight
lifeline defined
the way my schoolin' end-less-ly every day
one exquisite crisis rivets an octagon of red
to the above my bed
it's not a piece, like public spectacles
unleashed more of a
so when I wake up to the rains be one step ahead of you
I like Kodakrome(?)
a poem for every planet
tracked mileage from the sun in an envelope
it, stamped it
got eight thank yous in the mail, but planets means there's one left
the earth would thank me later with a breath taking sunset
(man, I'm a bum)
zip waterfall around your skeleton
it to boil
loyalties, the in the soil
dig it, I my lip kissing the winter
nursed the in the sun
strung a between spring and where the willows turn to blood
might of
sip a little, it, love it
without big trying to sell him sunflower seeds by the bucket
might of, tugboat for the boxcutter above ashes
without hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger
and I'm you
to let a lacerate a caption
splash out
apolster plastic glasses with famine
i-dentify all saints linked around the fountain's
and for a second of pain when removing that crown of thorns
?????,???,???, hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochist
the blame on ??? ???
my fire escape ghost town market place
artists bought out
then fast themselves to the target's
killin' me

if I had a hammer, I'd build a city on
so my feet would stay dry when wine glass tilts

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

and if your wing is broken
I'll see the in hell
I can't afford ????? in a cell
my carousel mimics the of a thousand leaking spickets
and a colony of graziers to justify the grimace
(and yes I the treaty)
I prescribe the plus the premises
my pin cushion, my limbs the knitting needle
evils, idle, peddle past the
where the feed the cycles
stop, watch the eagles board the little engine that not
ghost in a
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
supply burning the bridge between the magnet and my eye
now how many satisfy a mad man?
and how many crooked samaritans plesantville to bad land?
I can count my own dusty with you laughing
about you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy with cane
(well, right)
grip your pointed stick, incite your
sell your worth in a bottle at profit, explain my bias
atomic box cult, downward rapidly
cast to hell with hate mail, forged Christ's
laughed itself, catastrophe
my lip
skin and bones,
bingin' on rancid
mummified well inside a muddy New York
was it
your remnants my smoke rings have cocooned prior to
well, it wasn't conscious but it might have been that

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

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

why if every light is dark do I dancing?

why if every light is dark do I continue

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

I for the raindrops
for the purity, the
for my recollections
for the comic in my heart
the mocked
the clarity, passion,
those cool summer
for the mark emerging across the street me stog's at half price
for the mights, the maybes, the pitfall
my girl, my
for the fact my window opens towards a brick
for the three dog I saw dragged on a leash
for the homeless man who walks my block in rainstorms with plastic on
his
see I away the tenders over one shoulder
and across broken glass
through every wicked to kiss tomorrow's morning
not for
you'll drown in a of your crooked morals
whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to

maybe, no