Luyện nghe bài hát Tiny Streams

Morning sun the day
Mothers child has away
Locked inside the that they taught him all to play
Closet city sleeping pretty tired the day
And if he the tiny porch light dim
He'll the dogs at bay
Snotty brat he plays
puts his toys away
Breaks the ones used if they don't sparkle anymore
dollies in the playhouse
All their heads are missing
Chop their tiny hands with thing
That's daddy bought them for
Red and White's turned today
I laugh to dry the tear
in my ceilings face
This boiling webbing place
Smiles soft anger shapes
Of mouths and hands in scapes
Fingers spanning psychic
Black Sabbath record
Pools of vision,
Forms absorb to keep from
Climb the walls, half inside
side, air is thin there
Friends inside pull me to
Cannot from laughing, laughing
Ripples from the making contact
bending circles
Growing of each other
reflections of this covered consciousness
Inside this
Masterpieces scattered not well
Yet undertaken
Tiny of orchestration
Flow into fisheye car ride
Leaning close to catch his good
Tiny of orchestration