Luyện nghe bài hát Waste of Paint

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

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

I knew a woman, she was dignified and
And her love for her man was one of her virtues
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 that had happens
And she was for all that would come next?

But then she wept, what did you
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 death, which was fine with her
She got upset and with all the days she may have left
She never clean another mess or fold his shirts or look her best
She was free to waste alone

Last night, my brother, he got and drove
And cop, he pulled him off to the side 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 name is known
Your decisions now are alone
You are but a stepping stone
On a to debt, to loss, to shame"

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

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

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

My head feels weak and it is clear 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 could save a like me
With some ideal that no one could hope to achieve
And I am never real, it is just a in me
And everything I made is trite and 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 ceiling at an
And when the voices blend they sound angels
I there's some room still in the middle
But when I lift my up now to reach them
The range is too high, way up in

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