Luyện nghe bài hát True Story Of What Was

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

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

Oh, to clean up the clutter of
in and out of focus
Words spoken like
and sing in my head

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

Real is
of what you try
To say
Or say

Real is relentless
words distract and dismay
Words that change their
Though the story the same

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

screen, a smoke screen
Oh, to
for a moment, the picture
Outside the

Then in a flash, the light blue
Spanning a sudden
Is sucked the vanishing point
And rushes back

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

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

Just a collection of
Conversations
Of the of marks we make
When we're trying to make a pen work

A of them

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

I amend
Whatever ever said
With sigh