Luyện nghe bài hát Trite

[Sage

i'm having crises.
"no not." "yes we are."
i'm having crises.
"no not." "yes we are."

i don't have a feeling that hasn't been felt, on my felt tip,
my hand...revealing what i've dealt with.
and how i'm dealing. cut the deck. evenly the pieces
of talking during our disputes on weekends.
we can along to each other's song, right?
even if the is wrong, right?
just make you don't bring the wrong mike,
'cause i don't care about meeting a we can all like (nah!).
this song is trite, hope ya like it.
could've substituted your name with the title but i that i'd keep it private.
violent dream sequences just endless.
i can see making a heated entrance
to workplace with a smirk on my face.
and a in my cheek. and a gun in my reach.
sneaking naked of myself under the seats of your co-workers,
putting a knife to your throat and screaming out "i hurt her!"
like, "let her go!"
and i'm like, "let her grow!"
prisoners wouldn't listen to this. their rational was out on a furlough.
i like family affairs.
i a wife, a house, and two and a half mistresses to call when i'm not there.
hang up the phone, and have my wife call up the phone company,
and ask the company guy "why???"

and he's like, "ma'am...well, maybe you just don't how to talk."
and like, "damn...well...wanna fuck me?"
"yeah of course."

see? case closed. and he how to trace calls,
so i make cranks saying, "i hate ya'll!"
i throw at my mirror, break walls a tear a-
nother page out of my diary, throwing it from the eighth 'til i hear a
pin drop. unsuspecting are in shock.
they know i'm about to kill myself with a shot.
they rocks for ammunition,
steal my lifetime and then cancel my subscription.
their hands are just itching to my clean records.
my rap sheets are infected, now i be president???
i just have to be elected! i ask for a second chance.
the answer back was "kid, you did in the first place."

speaking of that, me my blue ribbons back and anything that is mine.
waiting for a nice guy who can't make it to the line.
when i die you won't recognize the picture buried the obituary,
but it'll say, "bye, i miss you much."

i'm always one for last at departing time,
in a million is when this dead star will shine.
say my fuckin' name. nope. say my name. nope.
you don't...know what to me so you don't.
you don't you call me.
you you don't call me.