Luyện nghe bài hát Good Morning, Hypocrite

Seems like the roads stretch out veins, but there's no heart.
Nature's is concrete now, and we played our part.
So we ...

I've lost my taste for modern things. not for me.
I mundane: a quiet place, where time is free,
And I can ...

Climbed from my bed, to collect the thoughts that'd fallen my head,
And you watched me sink, through the carpet, the basement, and beyond.
And you blink.

On the glass, I traced the sun with my thumb. It sank the ground.
And the stars were blinking, like kids who were staring into the wind.
So I climbed through the and walked until I lost my name.
Now I can the victim. It's fine. I've seen it on TV.
But if there's one thing I know, it's that I never know enough.

Our heads, our hands, our brains, our lungs: just machines.
These hearts are all that got left, and they don't beat.

Live a little, a lot; it's the way this goes.
come to fear the little knives beneath their well-pressed clothes.
Their arms are reach is spreading through the neon glow.
Their mouths are moving, but their sound like telephones.
The traffic hums; the traffic near my old window.
The lights flicker; glow and hover like suspended snow.
I to watch the moon retreat and wonder where it goes.
Now I just wonder why my head is overrun ghosts