Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Som


Interface


Nível de dificuldade


Sotaque



Interface de linguagem

pt

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Política de cookies   |   Suporte   |   FAQ
Lyrkit marcação

Olá! Eu sou o Lyrkit!

Tentei várias maneiras de memorizar palavras em inglês e descobri a mais eficaz para mim!

Já temos na memória todas as letras das músicas que ouvimos ao longo da vida. Simplesmente não prestamos atenção nelas, mas todos já os ouvimos!

Percebi que quando você aprende uma palavra nova de uma música que já ouviu antes, você já sabe a tradução dessa palavra para sempre e nunca vai esquecer!

Quero compartilhar esse método com você. Então, o esquema é o seguinte.

Encontramos músicas que já ouvimos.

Adicionamos todas as palavras desconhecidas deles.

Passamos em mini testes de jogos de memória. feito

Agora que você conhece muitas palavras, rapidamente conhecerá o idioma inteiro!

Aposto que você ficará surpreso com a eficácia desse método!)

avançar

pular
1
cadastre-se / faça login
Lyrkit

doar

5$

Lyrkit

doar

10$

Lyrkit

doar

20$

Lyrkit

Ou avalie-me Windows Store:


E/ou me apoie nas redes sociais. redes:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Meat Loaf

Wasted Youth

 

Wasted Youth

(álbum: Bat Out Of Hell II: Back Into Hell - 1993)


[All spoken by Jim Steinman]

I remember everything!
I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday.
I was barely seventeen and I once killed a boy with a Fender guitar
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster,
but I do remember that it had a heart of chrome and a voice like a horny angel!
I don't remember if it was a Telecaster or a Stratocaster,
but I do remember that it wasn't at all easy.
It required the perfect combination of the correct power chords,
and the precise angle from which to strike.
The guitar bled for a week afterward and the blood was ooh
dark and rich like wild berries.
The blood of the guitar was Chuck Berry red.
The guitar bled for about a week afterward but it rung out beautifully,
and I was able to play notes that I had never even heard before.
So, I took my guitar and I smashed it against the wall,
I smashed it against the floor,
I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader,
I smashed it against the hood of a car,
I smashed it against a 1981 Harley Davidson.
The Harley howled in pain.
The guitar howled in heat.
And I ran up the stairs to my parents' bedroom.
Mommy and Daddy were sleeping in the moonlight.
Slowly I opened the door, creeping in the shadows,
right up to the foot of their bed.
I raised the guitar high above my head,
and just as I was about to bring the guitar crashing down upon the centre of the bed,
my father woke up screaming:
"Stop! Wait a minute! Stop it boy! What do you think you're doing?
That's no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!"
And I said "God dammit Daddy! You know I love you,
but you've got a hell of a lot to learn about rock and roll!"

feito

Você adicionou todas as palavras desconhecidas dessa música?