Luyện nghe bài hát Tiny Streams

Morning sun the day
child has gone away
Locked inside the that they taught him all to play
Closet city sleeping pretty from the day
And if he leaves the tiny porch dim
keep the dogs at bay
Snotty little brat he
Never puts his away
the ones he's used if they don't sparkle anymore
dollies in the playhouse
All their little are missing
Chop their tiny hands this thing
That's daddy bought them for
Red and White's turned blue
I laugh to dry the away
Sitting in my ceilings
This boiling webbing place
Smiles soft anger shapes
Of and hands in sonic scapes
Fingers spanning burning
Black Sabbath record
Pools of vision,
absorb to keep from laughing
Climb the walls, half them
side, air is thin there
Friends inside pull me to
Cannot keep laughing, laughing
Ripples from the portholes making
Center bending
Growing of each other
reflections of this covered consciousness
Inside this
Masterpieces scattered not spoken
Yet still
Tiny streams of
Flow into this fisheye car
Leaning close to catch his side
Tiny streams of