Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We hands on the last night on earth.
Our mouths filled dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs, bleeding dark the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we knew everyone
the bottom of the river.
So we walked through the where the road curved into the sea
and the shattered lay,
and the bitter smell of burning was on you 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 shapes
of stars that like an antique wedding dress.
The echoes of the broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris silently slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered in hopes of a better pastime.
I kissed you at the of the maelstrom and asked
if you would accompany me in a fall,
but you made me that my ticket wasn't good for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling snow."
There is poetry in despair, and we sang unrivaled beauty,
bitter 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 somewhere beyond the rim of the horizon
and the is a mystery 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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