Luyện nghe bài hát [Untitled]

We held hands on the last on earth.
Our mouths filled with dust, we kissed in the fields and trees,
screaming dogs, bleeding dark into the leaves.
It was empty on the edge of but we knew everyone floated
along the 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 of passion you said, "Death is a midnight runner."
The sky had come down like the news of an intimate suicide.
We picked up the shards and them into shapes
of stars that like an antique wedding dress.
The of the past broke the hearts of the unborn
as the ferris wheel silently 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 would me in a quick fall,
but you made me realize that my ticket good for two.
I alone.
You said, "The cinders are falling snow."
There is poetry in despair, and we with unrivaled beauty,
bitter elegies of and eloquence.
Of and grey.
Strange, we ran down desperate streets and carved our 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 and drifted slowly outward,
and in the wilderness we found salvation scratched
into the like a message.

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