Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held hands on the last on earth.
Our mouths with dust, we kissed in the fields and under trees,
screaming like dogs, dark into 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 where the curved into the sea
and the seasons 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 down like the news of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and formed into shapes
of stars that wore like an wedding dress.
The echoes of the broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel slowed to a stop.
The few insects skittered away in hopes of a pastime.
I kissed you at the of the maelstrom and asked
if you accompany 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."
is poetry in despair, and we sang with unrivaled beauty,
bitter elegies of and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran down desperate streets and 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 slowly outward,
and somewhere in the wilderness we found scratched
into the earth a message.

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