Luyện nghe bài hát Writers Are A Funny Breed

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

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

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

You said someday when we're pure and
We won't need to and describe
The things we see or see
let things be
Let things be that's when you'd

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

And now I stand here in your
Every so still
I wonder if I'll again or let things be
Writers are a breed