Luyện nghe bài hát Rat's Ass/Customs

Standin' on the side of the road with a long and suitcases,
going nowhere, and I don't care, I'm a man.
Hold my own hand, my own ass for cryin',
I'm dyin' on the inside, don't know who I am.
Filthy, fraught, and by a guilty conscience,
runnin' away, and all of silly nonsense.
since - God knows when,
and I comin' back knowin' that, no one gives a rat's ass anyway.

I just wanna find a place where I can sit in a chair,
no how far, even if it means walking there.
Maybe I'll get me a dog for company,
better than tryin' to figure out somebody.
Give me a good book, a radio, and a machine,
a in the woods by the ocean and no inbetween.
I gotta get rid of dark circles and headaches,
Maybe if I meditate, rather medicate.
I can no hesitate, I get so frantic,
but what if my are overly romantic.
Though, the suns too low in the sky for second I reken
and I'm used to chances.
Breakin' a few branches, and lucky now and then,
findin' some trouble, was a matter of how and when.
And now I take notes, and make boats from bark
but stress still in my face like a birthmark.
As soon as I get where I'm I'm going to wash my hands thoroughly
and start out of bed earlier.
curious the way I've tried vicariously,
to fly so low to the and so carelessly.
How embarassing, I can't wait to it quits,
knowing that more and tiring is all it gets.
I've various and unique strategies,
a few Greek tragedies and fasted for two weeks.
Been around
in the in the ground
no surprise my eyes
are shut, I'm stranded with no supplies.

I a lift...

have I done?