Luyện nghe bài hát Tiny Streams

Morning sun the day
child has gone away
Locked inside the game that they taught him all to
city sleeping pretty tired from the day
And if he leaves the tiny light dim
He'll the dogs at bay
Snotty little brat he
puts his toys away
Breaks the he's used if they don't sparkle anymore
in the playhouse kissing
All their heads are missing
Chop their tiny hands with this
That's what daddy bought for
Red and White's turned blue
I laugh to dry the tear
Sitting in my ceilings
boiling rainbow webbing place
Smiles anger feeling shapes
Of mouths and hands in scapes
Fingers spanning burning
Black Sabbath record
of vision, understanding
Forms absorb to from laughing
the walls, half inside them
Other side, air is there
inside pull me to them
Cannot keep from laughing,
Ripples the portholes making contact
Center circles
Growing of each other
reflections of this covered consciousness
Inside this
Masterpieces scattered not well
Yet undertaken
Tiny streams of
Flow this fisheye car ride
Leaning close to catch his side
streams of orchestration