Luyện nghe bài hát May I Call You Beatrice

Just a thought in the head of the one
With the sunburnt and the eyes to the ground
earwaxed tongue-tied gutter sounds

Thinking of the lost rib, the indelible
Thinking the unthinkable, no one's

And the eyes say, I don't we've met
I believe you've had the privilege
I believe we've met

When the wind, when the wind, the wind blows cold
And the eyes of the child old
When the erratic rises and falls
Above the faithful
You can take me back to the

See her strain from the weight of the
Spinning his assumptions, barefoot and tight lipped
He in his favourite chair, his world around

First she's Beatrice then a pumpkin
Then a faded leaf in a book on his pantry shelf

When the wind, the wind, when the wind blows cold
And the eyes of the child old
When the erratic conga rises and
Above the metronome
You can take me back to the

The head sees the hand play the ring in the pocket
And the head knows the knows the ring is as round
As the tear-soaked shoulder in a room in town

And the ring is heavy and so is the crown
Which she drags to the chair feebly to keep the swelling

the wind, when the wind, when the wind blows cold
And the eyes of the grow old
When the erratic conga rises and
Above the faithful
You can take me to the gravestone

When the bird in the is worth two in the hand
And the cage holds the empty man
The bird keeps flying from the rising

And the phone keeps ringing and the phone ringing
And the ring slipping and the phone
And the keeps on ringing

And he's about the one who got away
And he's about the one who got away
And he's thinking about the one who got
And thinking about the one who got away

And thinking and he's thinking
thinking?