Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held hands on the night on earth.
Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and trees,
screaming like dogs, bleeding dark the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of town but we everyone floated
the bottom of the river.
So we through the waste where the road curved into the sea
and the shattered lay,
and the bitter of burning was on you like a disease.
In our cancer of passion you said, "Death is a runner."
The sky had crashing down like the news of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and formed them into
of stars that wore an antique wedding dress.
The of the past broke 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 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 sang with beauty,
elegies 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 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 earth a message.

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