Luyện nghe bài hát Untitled #12

Blind head in catastrophe icicles
fed in cycles led by cycles dead
Ask to shine the
Love is distance and blue sits like bite
And through our hands
I said hi' to a man who shot his
Panned through the
And in front of a train
Said I'm a bit confused to you
what scissors do to a day
So their smiles the way
drips with waves
And clouds my head 'cause I'm a fellah's bed
And I'm the played by the goons
Who ride in wombs
And stole the road the way
And tomorrow to yesterday and
I know the feeling of pushing you out of a
Tiny people hit the sky
Still the ground got up and wiped face
You to fly, wind up your misfortune
em to a maitre-dee
Who wears dead on his face
And is to grow wings
He really to tell you
hey give your tears to
Grind yourself souvenirs under your years
Hands in pockets
Your hands getting numb hurt in grinds jive
Do the avenues that seem to meet you
Did you ever try to hug the sky behind your
I walked forever a screen
Shuffled a mean green
Dives head first into a hole in the
Drives side to side a floating machine
dancing to a fable told to a sea of disintegration
Crawl to a celebration of dirt leaves that taste of wine
Sucked a hair that digs into the darkness
Full of the fair that my rides.
I slide your through a ladder
Hanging on a
close so far
Away from the
A tape section of introspection
To would be to recline.
Hit the pounds underlying
on the side
Tell problems to zero
got nothing to hide.