Luyện nghe bài hát Trite

[Sage

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

i don't a feeling that hasn't been felt, feeling on my felt tip,
showing my hand...revealing i've dealt with.
and how i'm dealing. cut the deck. evenly the pieces
of shit during our disputes on weekends.
we can sing along to other's song, right?
even if the interpretation is wrong,
just make sure you bring the wrong mike,
i don't care about meeting a boyfriend we can all like (nah!).
this song is called trite, hope ya it.
could've your name with the title but i decided that i'd keep it private.
violent dream sequences just endless.
i can see myself a heated entrance
to your with a smirk on my face.
and a in my cheek. and a gun in my reach.
sneaking naked photos of myself under the 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 side was out on a furlough.
i turbo-nuclear family affairs.
i want a wife, a house, and two and a half mistresses to call i'm not there.
then up the phone, and have my wife call up the phone company,
and ask the phone 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? closed. and he knows how to trace calls,
so i make cranks saying, "i hate ya'll!"
i throw baseballs at my mirror, walls a tear a-
nother page out of my diary, throwing it the eighth floor 'til i hear a
pin drop. pallbearers are in shock.
they i'm about to kill myself with a sling shot.
they bring for ammunition,
steal my lifetime and then cancel my subscription.
their hands are just itching to scratch my records.
my rap sheets are infected, now i can't be
i just have to be elected! i ask for just a chance.
the answer was "kid, you never did in the first place."

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

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