Luyện nghe bài hát Usually Just A T-shirt: Untitled #12

Blind head in catastrophe icicles
fed in cycles led by cycles dead
Ask to the flag
Love is distance and blue sits apples bite
And through our hands
I said 'Hi' to a man who shot his
Panned the station
And jumped in of a train
Said I'm a bit confused to you
Life's scissors do to a day
So their pave the way
Sand drips waves
And my head 'cause I'm a fortune fellah's bed
And I'm the played by the goons
Who in fairy's wombs
And the road the other way
And tomorrow to yesterday and
I the feeling of pushing you out of a building
people pulsating hit the sky
Still the ground got up and wiped face
You expected to fly, up your misfortune
'em to a Maitre-Dee
Who dead butterflies on his face
And is hoping to grow
He wants to tell you
'hey give your to today'
Grind yourself souvenirs under your stolen
Hands in pockets
Your hands getting numb been hurt in jive
Do the avenues seem to meet defeat you
Did you ever try to hug the sky behind head
I forever sightseeing a screen
a mean green ping
Dives first into a hole in the water
Drives side to side like a 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 digs into the darkness
Full of the that my head rides.
I slide your kind a ladder
Hanging on a
Stray so far
from the climb
A tape like section of
To rewind be to recline.
Hit the pounds gently
on the side
Tell problems to zero
He's got to hide.