Luyện nghe bài hát Untitled #12

Blind your head in catastrophe
fed in cycles led by cycles dead
Ask to the flag
Love is distance and sits like apples bite
And flows our hands
I hi' to a man who shot his sister
through the station
And in front of a train
Said I'm a bit confused to you
what scissors do to a day
So smiles pave the way
Sand with waves
And clouds my head 'cause I'm a fortune bed
And I'm the played by the goons
Who ride in fairy's
And stole the the other way
And tomorrow to yesterday and
I know the of pushing you out of a building
Tiny pulsating hit the sky
Still the ground got up and wiped your
You expected to fly, wind up your
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 souvenirs under your stolen years
Hands in pockets
Your hands getting been hurt in grinds jive
Do the avenues seem to meet defeat you
Did you try to hug the sky behind your head
I walked sightseeing 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 that that taste of wine
Sucked from a hair that digs into the
Full of the that my head rides.
I slide kind through a ladder
Hanging on a
Stray so far
Away the climb
A tape section of introspection
To would be to recline.
Hit the underlying gently
on the side
Tell your problems to
He's got to hide.