Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We hands on the last night on earth.
Our mouths with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs, bleeding dark the leaves.
It was on the edge of town but we knew everyone floated
along the of the river.
So we walked through the waste the road curved into the sea
and the seasons lay,
and the smell of burning was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a runner."
The sky had come crashing down the news of an intimate suicide.
We up the shards and formed them into shapes
of stars that wore an antique wedding dress.
The of the past broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel slowed to a stop.
The few insects away in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the apex of the maelstrom and
if you would accompany me in a fall,
but you me realize 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 unrivaled beauty,
bitter of savagery and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran down desperate streets and our names in the flesh of the city.
The sun was stagnated beyond the rim of the horizon
and the darkness is a of curves and lines.
Still, we lay under the emptiness and drifted outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness we salvation scratched
the earth like a message.

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