Luyện nghe bài hát The Tugboat Complex

Oh my God
They've got sweatin' like Helots
workin' their little to the bone combing them deserts
my eight knotted
lifeline traffic
the way my schoolin' defined every day
one exquisite crisis rivets an octagon of red
to the ceiling my bed
it's not a piece, like public spectacles
unleashed of a clue
so when I up to the rains I'll be one step ahead of you
I slide Kodakrome(?)
wrote a for every planet
tracked their from the sun in an envelope
licked it, it
got eight thank yous in the mail, but planets means there's one left
only the earth would thank me later with a taking sunset
(man, I'm a bum)
zip that around your skeleton
it to boil
loyalties, the shovel in the
dig it, I split my lip the winter
the blister in the sun
strung a hammock between spring and the willows turn to blood
of worked
sip a little, it, love it
without big beetles trying to sell him sunflower by the bucket
might of, tugboat for the boxcutter above those
without hot air balloons floatin' their four passenger
and I'm you
to let a captive a caption
splash out
apolster glasses with famine patches
i-dentify all linked around the fountain's warmth
and for a second taste of pain when removing that of thorns
?????,???,???, hostile, pacifist huddled in subtle masochist
the blame on ??? ???
my fire escape ghost town market place
bought out passes
then fast to the target's face
killin' me

if I had a hammer, I'd a city on stilts
so my would stay dry when God's wine glass tilts

if I had a shovel, I'd dig a hole in the
and I'll be when his drunken stupor lands upon earth

and if little wing is broken
I'll see the in hell
I can't afford ????? in a cell
my carousel mimics the interests of a leaking spickets
and a colony of graziers raised to justify the
(and yes I the treaty)
I the remedy plus the premises
my pin cushion, my limbs the knitting needle
evils, idle, past the greeting
where the sleepers feed the
stop, watch the eagles board the little engine could not
ghost in a
and it in my lap
passin', postin' the bail but the has misplaced the key ring (that's
wonderful)
I lead a flee to blaze exact songs directly the village
power supply burning the between the magnet and my eye
now how many cadavers a mad man?
and how crooked samaritans turn plesantville to bad land?
I can count my own nickels with you laughing
about you'll turn my poor ass ebony and navy cane lashings
(well, right)
grip your stick, incite your riot
I'll sell worth in a bottle at profit, explain my bias
atomic box cult, downward spiral
cast to hell hate mail, forged Christ's autograph
laughed itself, catastrophe
my lip
skin and bones,
bingin' on rancid
well inside a muddy New York minute
was it
your my smoke rings have cocooned prior to fading?
well, it wasn't conscious but it might have been that

I am not your anymore
my head dissertation(?)
narrow bed sleepers occupy the basement
and I am not your anymore
come the of cerulean your pity blend that whispers in the wind

man, if it only that simple
I'd add a guilt to my core
I'd board myself inside my to trace the wilting contour
one petal falls to the rug, she me not
town lugging a boom box with spirit plugs
and a red flyer
to irony like twenty burning igloos with a sailors knot
fiddler crabs build sandcastles high tide off azalea crops
in the field I portray, cats get antsy
and ask 'why if every light is dark do I continue

why if every light is do I continue dancing?

why if every light is dark do I continue

why if light is dark do I continue dancing?
well if it ain't finally a that's worth answering

I boogie for the
for the purity, the
for my recollections
for the comic book in my
the mocked
the clarity, passion,
those cool nights
for the mark emerging across the street me stog's at half price
for the mights, the maybes, the pitfall
my girl, my
for the fact my window opens a brick wall
for the three legged dog I saw on a leash
for the homeless man who my block in rainstorms with plastic bags on
his
see I throw away the tenders over one
and walk across glass
through wicked world to kiss tomorrow's morning
not for
you'll drown in a of your crooked morals
whispering 'maybe Aesop Rock was on to

maybe, no