Luyện nghe bài hát The Calendar Hung Its Self

Does he your eyelids in the morning
when you to raise your head?
And does he sing to you
the place between your bed and wall?
Does he around all day at school
with his feet inside shoes?
Looking down every few
to he walks with you.
Does he know place below your neck
that is your to be touched
and does he cry through broken
I love you far too much?
Does he lay awake to your breath?
Worried you smoke too many cigarettes.
Is he now
on a floor?
For every speck of
there are a more
that you ever see
but hold inside yourself
eternally.

I drug your ghost the country
and we out my death.
In every city, memories whisper,
Here is you rest.
I was determined in
but I dug my teeth my knees
and I for a telephone
and sang into machine.
You are my sunshine, my sunshine

I a girl with a broken jaw
that her father to her.
She had bright enough to burn me.
They me of yours.
In a story she was a little girl
in a red-rouge, sun-bruised
and there were rows of tomatoes
a secret was concealed.
And it like thunder,
clapped our hands.
And it stretched for
to a entry's end
I wrote,
You make me
when the skies are
You me happy
the are grey
and
and grey.

Well the heart it hangs inside its open chest
with its hands stretched towards the calendar itself
but I will not weep for dying days.
For all the who have left
are a few that stayed.
And found me here
and pulled me the grass
I was laid.