Luyện nghe bài hát Waiting Room

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

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

Well there's nothing to say.
The just collapse into
waves in the spectrum of sound
and easy on the ears
and nice to hear
but it doesn't a thing.
No it mean a thing.

The silence
like a small earthquake shattering the calm - my name.
The scent of sterile instruments
filters out from the hallway.

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

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

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