Luyện nghe bài hát Thirty

Thirty on a walnut,
Tiny limbs the eye,
Tiny mind inside the brain,
To see the sky.

birds upon a phone line,
Cherry on an old, bound Ford,
The of Deja vu on every face,
And every I ought to woo.

Ashes, ashes,
All down,
those moment,
Make song,
Dry on the ground.

odd years I've been drifting,
Is there we could meet?
'Cause I'm as a kitten,
I'm as a mitten in a winter's street.

days walk from my front door,
If I leave now it's thirty-one,
And the old man his arms,
my shoulders and says,
"Let me you, son."

Ashes, ashes,
All down,
those moments,
Make song,
fall like dry leaves,
On the ground.

The summer stars, like to whisper,
been hoodwinked all along,
There is not a of meaning here but,
Thirty Buddha's on a says you're wrong.
Thirty Buddha's you're wrong.
I bet you a say's you're wrong.