Luyện nghe bài hát A Crater To Cough In

This path that we upon is the collection of points that the rain has drawn.
The rhythm of the storm.
By the to the gateposts of the forest,
in the light, we are bound for the portal of the pines.
Grey as famine, on this path against our will by our main we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still.
compulsion with this miniature death tributize?
From behind the walls of my broken tent, a formal vision,
but I allude to my helpless for the obtuse
will this night end?
When the lightening finally tears through the mast of our ship.
All the hopes of the slaves are by the grates.
On this coffin of a vessel every note's another wave.
Revel in this vision, a formal visitation, on the night with the light above.
Famished dogs slowly as my own paws drag me to a dock,
to the plank where I struggle to deny myself the path that every Pisces craves,
just 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 cough for every crater that I see,
on the surface of that we've come to call the moon.
Now I if all those judgments that you made were true.
And the trapdoor of the solstice is thrown wide, open.
Let them all sink, let all sink through.
The talking, the spinning of a web- its all just ritual.
The burning.
The burning "what do you deserve?"
The gazing at a candle to find calm, but we all know its at the of the storm.
Oh moon, though pluckest me out, oh
I who have sat by Thebes the wall and walked among the lowest of the dead
(to Carthage I came).
Only the most crater will suit my burial,
only the most choir performs this ritual dirge.
imperfect, like a storm.
By our mane dragged and bound to our by our mane,
to the grave dragged and to the tomb by the scavenger's tooth.