Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We hands on the last night on earth.
Our mouths filled dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs, bleeding into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we everyone floated
along the of the river.
So we walked through the waste the road curved into the sea
and the shattered lay,
and the bitter smell of burning was on you a disease.
In our cancer of you said, "Death is a midnight runner."
The sky had come crashing like the news of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and formed them into
of stars that wore like an antique dress.
The echoes of the past broke the hearts of the
as the ferris silently slowed to a stop.
The few skittered away in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the and asked
if you would me in a quick fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket good for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling snow."
There is poetry in despair, and we with unrivaled beauty,
bitter elegies of and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran down desperate streets and our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun was stagnated somewhere the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a of curves and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness and slowly outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation
into the like a message.

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