Luyện nghe bài hát Waiting Room

in line,
passing the time four month old magazines.
The pale given life by the florescent lights,
exposing in the carpeting.

And sitting at my side mockery of life:
a plastic plant strictly for decor.
No one makes a
but the sirens through the space between the door and the floor.

Well there's nothing to say.
The just collapse into
colorful waves in the spectrum of
and it's easy on the
and nice to hear
but it mean a thing.
No it mean a thing.

The silence
like a small earthquake shattering the - it's my name.
The scent of sterile instruments
out from inside the hallway.

Your chin falls towards your lap, you know you come back
one more thing to make this a little bit harder.
You'll wait for the out.
Until then a of doubt hangs in the air like grief in a funeral parlor.

Well nothing left to say.
The word's just collapse
colorful waves in the of sound
and it's easy on the
and nice to hear
but it doesn't a thing.
No it mean,
No it mean,
No it mean a thing.

So tell me I'm okay with no of gray.
Tell me I can go, don't say you don't know,
because there's nothing I take like these areas of gray,
so me I'm okay.