Luyện nghe bài hát Tiny Streams

Morning sun the day
Mothers has gone away
Locked inside the game that taught him all to play
Closet city sleeping pretty tired the day
And if he leaves the porch light dim
He'll the dogs at bay
Snotty little brat he
Never puts his toys
Breaks the he's used if they don't sparkle anymore
in the playhouse kissing
All their heads are missing
Chop their tiny with this thing
what daddy bought them for
Red and turned blue today
I laugh to dry the away
Sitting in my face
boiling rainbow webbing place
Smiles soft feeling shapes
Of and hands in sonic scapes
Fingers psychic burning
Black Sabbath turning
Pools of vision,
Forms absorb to keep laughing
Climb the walls, half inside
Other side, air is thin
Friends inside me to them
Cannot from laughing, laughing
Ripples from the making contact
Center circles
Growing of each other
Float of this covered consciousness
Inside eggshell
Masterpieces not well spoken
Yet still
streams of orchestration
Flow this fisheye car ride
Leaning to catch his good side
Tiny of orchestration