Luyện nghe bài hát Uncorrected Proofs

The mirrors and the nods.
Dial tones and plates.
The words you choose.
Everything the day's too small to hold on to the dusk,
and the evening's fuse.
So you fumble for a voice and "Happy Birthday."
Read it to again.
The always end the same.
He can't and she won't run,
and fear is they're calling from.
the blood from countless tiny cuts.
all out of bandages.
The rattle taunt.
Sifting translucent shards of glass,
looking for a filament lit the life you want.
So you stumble for the phone, the cord and pull.
Will readership complain the stories always end the same?
She can't stay and he run, and fear is where they're calling from.
Afraid is you're calling from.