Luyện nghe bài hát Waste of Paint

I a friend, he is made mostly of pain
And he wakes up, drives to work, and then straight home again
He once cut one of my out of paper
Well, I thought it was beautiful, I put it on a cover
And I tried to tell him he had a
Of color and so magnificent

And he said, "Thank you, please but flattery
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 a woman, she was dignified and true
And her love for her man was one of her many
Until one day, she found out that he had
And she decided the of her life from that point on would be a lie
But she was grateful for everything that had
And she was anxious for all that would come

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

night, my brother, he got drunk and drove
And this cop, he pulled him off to the side of the
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 just let you go
And though father's name is known
Your now are yours alone
You are nothing but a stone
On a to debt, to loss, to shame"

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

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

So I been hanging out down by the trains depot
No, I don't ride, I sit and watch the people there
And they remind me of wind up cars in
The way they spin and turn and for positions
And I want to scream out that it all is
All your live's one track, can't they see it's
But then, my knees under me

My head feels weak and suddenly it is to see
It is not them but me, who has my self-identity
As I hide behind these books I read, while scribbling my
Like art save a wretch like me
With some ideal ideology that no one could hope to
And I am real, it is just a sketch in me
And everything I is trite and cheap and a waste
Of paint, of tape, of

So now I park my car down by the
Where the point up at the steeples
Choir practice was up with people
Could hear the sound escaping as an
Sloping off the at an angle
And when the voices blend they like angels
I there's some room still in the middle
But when I lift my voice up now to reach
The is too high, way up in Heaven

And so I hold my tongue, the song
Tie my shoe, walking off
And try to just moving on
With my broken and my absent God
And I have no but it is all I want
To be and believe in my soul
In my soul, in my soul, in my