Luyện nghe bài hát William Blake Overdrive

I make myself, a mile from the racetrack, drag my losses home.
It me not come back.
And we float parasites all our lives.
There's me the geriatrics at the slot machines.
me, the embodiment of how slow life can be.
There's me. Their dead eyes are glowing. are always shut.
I passed out on the road, hours from the racetrack.
I saw raise a toast.
He said "you got me with the jab."
And we float with parasites all our lives with this advice: we learn we're dead.
Be losers til your thoughts subside.
We learn until dead.
A falling dream's not a morbid sign.
opportunity.
These days I find beauty as depressing as years my time.
If you could make this old heart young again I'd find another topic to on,
a fashionable vice to lean on.
Some better words to speak on escaped my younger form.
But me with the geriatrics at the slot machines.
There's me. The of how slow life can be.
me. Short of imposing, please be involved.
Can I stop imploding at every thrown on me?
Imply this is only a prettier glimpse of a life so that's mine.