Luyện nghe bài hát True Story Of What Was

The light blue flickering
Of the big console TV
Is on the ceiling
Of insomniatic spree

And outside sleep's window
the drops of rain
History is writing a recipe
For every pain

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

And is, they often seem
In my memory's dream
To be
To the story of what was

Real is
Regardless of you try
To say
Or say

is real relentless
While words distract and
Words change their tune
Though the remains the same

that fill me quickly
And then are to drain
Dialogues that down reminiscent
Of the way it likes to

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

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

To search for the
In a symphony
To in the darkness
For who looks like me

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

Just a collection of
Conversations
Of the kind of we make
When trying to make a pen work again

A lifetime of

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

I amend
Whatever I've ever
With sigh