Luyện nghe bài hát Saint Simon

After all these implements and designed by intellects
So vexed to evidently there's just so much that hides
And the saints of us divine in ancient feeding lines
Their sentiment is just as hard to pluck the vine

I'm trying hard not to
Allow no mock defense
Step the night

Since I don't have the time nor to figure out
The nursery that helped us out and make a sense of our lives
The uneventful state of apathy releases me
I value them but I cry every time one's wiped out

I'll try hard not to in
Battened down to fair the
Rid my of this pretense
myself no mock defense
Step the night...

Mercy's are blue
she places them in front of you
Nothing holds a roman to
The warmth you feel inside

There's no of it
As nothing else is

I'll try not to give in
Battened down to the wind
Rid my head of pretense
Allow myself no defense
Step the night...

Mercy's eyes are
When she places in front of you
Nothing really holds a to
The warmth you feel inside of you