Luyện nghe bài hát Little Death

Now it out
Like a finger in the of your mouth
Cherubs and cerebellum, Tara at wedding
Sam Sam
Band upon the finger of Sam's hairiest hand
If that you, you a bigot
If it doesn't well you wicked
Such is
Odd as Egg McMuffins at
No answers, so let us watch these
Structure reformed being born
On the pallet of dark greys, and spirals
into a Eiffel
It ripples then it
Vacillates it virals
Babylons it Bibles and others
And me of the spinning mothers
And today's for beloved
And bellies covered like the cummerbunds of butlers

How was day, can I make what you say
What I wanna hear, I want you here
The hell we raised to the heavens do anything for
La mort, la petite mort

They keep the bottles just to glass houses
Then climb up to the second floors and throw out it
Then expect not a volley in
Some place vulnerable prolly in the eye
What of the what is it missin', is it dry?
Did it die in inhumane conditions so it didn't go relaxed
And attention from its demise pulled all of the flavor the fat
And it flat and rather lifeless
there's a place that has a stunning [?]
And more murdered Pisces
But barbaric are still the
It's niceless, apricot in dices and fromage slices
My son call risotto rices
If and he's left to his own devices, well
How is your
Is it returning like a lemon
To bear bitter of what you meant to me
Or was it slippin' like permission am I like Phil
I feel I'm grippin' but the transmission
Still left out the life, also left out the will,
Will never touch your teeth
Maybe like beef
Is it real, is it real, is it
Ha, hah!

How at the date can I make you my
Cause I you dear, ooh, I want you dear
The hell that we raised to the heavens [?] for
Our petite mort, our petite

So you're back, but not glad at that you're glad
Where is the glamor in
Where in the shatter of the facts shoves one back to a pattern of wounds
Swoon ridden consumed and driven mad soon
The attended years slowly fills baboons
other monkey business
Where killers go free a junkie's a funky witness
Runny mascaras from the cunning wearers of death
Bygone errors, sittin' like two oil
by a sea of cooling num nums
Reminiscing of an day playing hum drum
Where went unnoticed
And solidified till it was stoic
We been poets
Somewhere between amateurs and grandmasters of pentameter

How are your chains, do they you behave
Keep you over here, by overseer
Fallen grace down from heaven to memories [?]
La petite mort, la mort