Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

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

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