Luyện nghe bài hát True Story Of What Was

The light blue rhythm
Of the big console TV
Is basking on the
Of another insomniatic

And outside sleep's window
Between the of rain
is writing a recipe book
For earthly pain

Oh, to up the clutter of echoes
Coming in and out of
Words spoken locusts
Sing and sing in my

And thing is, they seem
In my memory's long
To be
To the true story of was

Real is
Regardless of you try
To say
Or say

Real is relentless
words distract and dismay
Words that their tune
Though the remains the same

Words that me quickly
And then are to drain
Dialogues that dither down
Of the way it likes to

Every screen, a screen
Oh, to
Just for a moment, the
the frame

Then in a flash, the blue horizon
a sudden black
Is sucked into the vanishing
And rushes back

To for the downbeat
In a symphony
To in the darkness
For someone who like me

I'm not really who I said I was
Or who I I'd be

Just a collection of
consisting
Of the of marks we make
When we're trying to make a pen again

A of them

I say to me, now listening
I say to the
That and sing to me sitting
Now here on the porch swing of my eyes

I amend
Whatever I've ever
this sigh