Luyện nghe bài hát A Crater To Cough In

This path that we walk upon is the of points that the rain has drawn.
The section of the storm.
By the to the gateposts of the forest,
in the snow light, we are for the portal of the pines.
Grey as famine, on this path against our will by our sails we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still.
Which compulsion with this miniature death
From behind the walls of my coughing tent, a formal vision,
but I allude to my passion for the obtuse
When will this night
When the lightening finally tears through the of our sinking ship.
All the hopes of the are betrayed by the grates.
On this coffin of a vessel every note's breaking wave.
Revel in this vision, a formal visitation, on the with the light from above.
Famished dogs follow slowly as my own drag me to a dock,
to the last plank where I to deny myself the path that every Pisces craves,
above the water in the middle of that man-made lake.
On that I turn my eyes from the water like a mirror of myself in the moonlight,
and I for every crater that I could see,
on the surface of that coffin we've come to the moon.
Now I if all those judgments that you made were true.
And the of the solstice is thrown wide, wide open.
Let them all sink, let all sink through.
The talking, the spinning of a web- its all formal ritual.
The burning.
The burning "what do you deserve?"
The at a candle to find calm, but we all know its at the center of the storm.
Oh moon, pluckest me out, oh moon-
I who have sat by Thebes the wall and walked among the lowest of the dead
(to Carthage I came).
Only the most sacred crater will my burial,
the most sacred choir performs this ritual dirge.
Perfectly imperfect, a storm.
By our mane and bound to our grave by our mane,
to the grave dragged and bound to the tomb by the tooth.