Luyện nghe bài hát Kw

In streets still with sleep
words that are worth the dirt beneath
verbal arrows you brought
down the moon in parking lot

I hit you in the
my fist imprinted with your marks
and your skin struck
realigned like a broken

If you it right
me on the line
hold your so tight
your knuckles turn white

Any that fits
was by hypocrites
no one else to blame
there's no reward for a fame

Your eyes still me
cigarette burns in a sweatshirt sleeve
like a space you couldn't
you can try to me but I'm hard to kill

You can struggle for my
cheer me on from the side with your pretender
I'll but won't forget
all the pain of swaying threats

If you play it
Keep me on the
hold your knives so
until knuckles turn white

Any that fits
was stitched by
with no one else to
there's no for a wicked fame

Just we hit the dust
smelling like coins and decaying rust
Your heels were hazard
the kind of crazy that would catch my eye

Your instructions prevail
"just a few can throws crooked tail"
Your and slang in speech
Feels just a lucid dream

If you play it
Keep me on the
hold your knives so
until your knuckles white

Any that fits
was stitched by
with no one else to
no reward for a wicked fame