Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held on the last night on earth.
Our mouths with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
like dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves.
It was on the edge of town but we knew everyone floated
the bottom of the river.
So we walked the waste where the road curved into the sea
and the seasons lay,
and the bitter smell of was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a runner."
The sky had come crashing like the news of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and formed into shapes
of stars that wore like an antique dress.
The echoes of the broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris silently slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the and asked
if you accompany me in a quick fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket wasn't for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling snow."
There is in despair, and we sang 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 somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon
and the is a mystery of curves and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted outward,
and somewhere in the we found salvation scratched
into the like a message.

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