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

Blind head in catastrophe icicles
No-one's fed in led by cycles dead
Ask to the flag
Love is and blue sits like apples bite
And flows through our
I said 'Hi' to a man who shot his
Panned the station
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
Sand drips with
And clouds my 'cause I'm a fortune fellah's bed
And I'm the tunes by the goons
Who ride in wombs
And stole the road the 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 your face
You to fly, wind up your misfortune
Sling 'em to a
Who wears dead butterflies on his
And is hoping to wings
He really to tell you
'hey give your to today'
yourself souvenirs under your stolen years
Hands in your
Your hands getting numb been hurt in jive
Do the that seem to meet defeat you
Did you try to hug the sky behind your head
I walked forever a screen
a mean green ping
Dives head first into a in the water
Drives side to side a floating machine
Dove to a fable told to a sea of disintegration
Crawl to a celebration of dirt that that taste of wine
from a hair that digs into the darkness
Full of the fair that my rides.
I slide your kind through a
Hanging on a
Stray so far
Away from the
A tape like of introspection
To rewind be to recline.
Hit the pounds gently
on the side
Tell problems to zero
got nothing to hide.