Luyện nghe bài hát True Story Of What Was

The blue flickering rhythm
Of the neighbor's big TV
Is basking on the
Of another spree

And outside open window
the drops of rain
History is writing a recipe
For every pain

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

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

Real is
Regardless of you try
To say
Or say

Real is relentless
While words and dismay
Words that their tune
Though the story remains the

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

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

in a flash, the light blue horizon
Spanning a black
Is into the vanishing point
And rushes back

To search for the
In a tabla
To in the darkness
For someone who looks me

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

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

A of them

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

I amend
Whatever I've said
With sigh