Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held hands on the last on earth.
Our mouths filled dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we everyone floated
along the of the river.
So we walked through the waste where the curved into the sea
and the shattered lay,
and the bitter smell of burning was on you a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a runner."
The sky had come crashing down like the of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and them into shapes
of stars that wore an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the past the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris silently slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered away in hopes of a pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and
if you would me in a quick fall,
but you made me that my ticket wasn't good for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are like snow."
There is poetry in despair, and we sang with beauty,
elegies of savagery and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran desperate streets and carved our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun was stagnated beyond the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a mystery of and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness we found salvation
into the like a message.

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