Luyện nghe bài hát Writers Are A Funny Breed

It is very quiet here, so
I don't live here, I live down the on this winter's afternoon
The distant sun, it slowly swings the around
This room on a golden chain suspended, frozen
Frozen in time since you went

Walking through your rooms, I thought your things
aren't fingers these are wings
It says on your calendar
winter now, I wonder where you are
I hope it's and sunny or cold and windy
As long as you're

house is as tumble-down as mine
Crumpled papers everywhere like
one says, "I'll write no more"
That one says, "Don't the door"
Writers are a funny breed I should

You someday when we're pure and high
We won't need to capture and
The we see or don't see
let things be
Let things be when you'd leave

And that is why I had to come
My mad crumpled, crippled, fey
Tossing words from ledges that
From I am not a goat
I am not a piece of chalk, I just to do it right like you

And now I stand here in house
thing's so still
I if I'll write again or let things be
are a funny breed