Luyện nghe bài hát Waiting Room

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

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

there's nothing left to say.
The word's collapse into
colorful waves in the of sound
and it's on the ears
and nice to hear
but it mean a thing.
No it mean a thing.

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

Your falls towards your lap, you know you can't come back
Just one thing to make this a little bit harder.
You'll for the turn out.
Until then a sense of hangs in the air like grief in a funeral parlor.

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

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