Luyện nghe bài hát Tiny Streams

Morning sun the day
Mothers child has away
Locked the game that they taught him all to play
Closet sleeping pretty tired from the day
And if he the tiny porch light dim
He'll keep the at bay
Snotty brat he plays
Never puts his away
Breaks the ones he's used if they sparkle anymore
dollies in the playhouse
All their heads are missing
Chop their tiny hands this thing
That's what bought them for
Red and White's blue today
I laugh to dry the away
Sitting in my ceilings
This rainbow webbing place
Smiles soft anger shapes
Of and hands in sonic scapes
spanning psychic burning
Black Sabbath turning
of vision, understanding
Forms absorb to keep from
Climb the walls, half inside
Other side, air is thin
Friends inside pull me to
keep from laughing, laughing
Ripples the portholes making contact
bending circles
Growing echoes of each
reflections of this covered consciousness
Inside eggshell
scattered not well spoken
Yet still
streams of orchestration
Flow into this fisheye car
Leaning to catch his good side
Tiny streams of