Luyện nghe bài hát Waste of Paint

I have a friend, he is mostly of pain
And he wakes up, drives to work, and straight back home again
He cut one of my nightmares out of paper
Well, I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a cover
And I tried to him he had a sense
Of and composition so magnificent

And he said, "Thank you, please but your
Is truly not becoming me, eyes are poor
You are blind, you see, no beauty could come from me
I am a of breath, of space, of time"

I knew a woman, she was dignified and
And her for her man was one of her many virtues
one day, she found out that he had lied
And she decided the rest of her life from point on would be a lie
But she was for everything that had happens
And she was anxious for all that would come

But then she wept, did you expect?
In that big, old house with the cars she
And "Such is life," she said
With one day leading her to the
You get a little closer to your death, which was fine her
She never got upset and all the days she may have left
She would never clean another or fold his shirts or look her best
She was free to away alone

Last night, my brother, he got and drove
And this cop, he pulled him off to the of the road
And he said, "Officer, officer, you got the man
No, no, I'm a of medicine, a son of a banker
You understand"
The cop said, "No one got hurt, you be thankful
And your carelessness, it is something

And no, I can't let you go
And though your father's is known
decisions now are yours alone
You are nothing but a stone
On a to debt, to loss, to shame"

The last few months I have living with this couple
Yeah, you know, the kind who buy everything in
Oh, they fit together, a puzzle
And I love love and I am thankful
That someone actually receives the prize was promised
By all those fairy that drugged us

And still do me, I'm sick, lonely
No laurel tree, green envy
Will my number up eventually?
Like is some kind of lottery
Where you scratch and see what's
'sorry, just one cherry', 'play again', 'get lucky'

So I have hanging out down by the trains depot
No, I don't ride, I just sit and watch the people
And they remind me of up cars in motion
The way they spin and and jockey for positions
And I to scream out that it all is nonsense
All live's one track, can't they see it's pointless?
But then, my knees under me

My head weak and suddenly it is clear to see
It is not them but me, who has my self-identity
As I hide behind books I read, while scribbling my poetry
Like art could save a wretch me
With some ideal ideology that no one could hope to
And I am never real, it is just a in me
And everything I made is and cheap and a waste
Of paint, of tape, of

So now I park my car by the cathedral
Where the point up at the steeples
Choir practice was filling up with
Could the sound escaping as an echo
off the ceiling at an angle
And the voices blend they sound like angels
I hope there's room still in the middle
But I lift my voice up now to reach them
The range is too high, way up in

And so I hold my tongue, forget the
Tie my shoe, start off
And try to keep moving on
With my broken heart and my God
And I have no but it is all I want
To be loved and believe in my
In my soul, in my soul, in my