Luyện nghe bài hát Untitled #12

Blind head in catastrophe icicles
No-one's fed in cycles led by dead
Ask to shine the
Love is distance and blue sits like apples
And flows our hands
I said hi' to a man who shot his
through the station
And jumped in front of a
Said I'm a bit confused to you
what scissors do to a day
So their smiles the way
Sand drips waves
And clouds my head I'm a fortune fellah's bed
And I'm the tunes by the goons
Who ride in fairy's
And stole the road the way
And sold tomorrow to and
I the feeling of pushing you out of a building
Tiny pulsating hit the sky
the ground got up and wiped your face
You expected to fly, up your misfortune
em to a maitre-dee
Who wears dead on his face
And is hoping to grow
He really wants to you
hey give your tears to
Grind yourself souvenirs under your years
Hands in pockets
hands getting numb been hurt in grinds jive
Do the avenues that seem to defeat you
Did you ever try to hug the sky behind your
I walked sightseeing a screen
a mean green ping
Dives head into a hole in the water
Drives side to side like a machine
Dove dancing to a fable to a sea of disintegration
Crawl to a celebration of dirt that leaves taste of wine
Sucked from a hair that digs into the
of the fair that my head rides.
I slide kind through a ladder
on a star
Stray so far
Away the climb
A tape like section of
To rewind be to recline.
Hit the pounds underlying
Ride on the
Tell your problems to
He's got to hide.