Luyện nghe bài hát A Crater To Cough In

This that we walk upon is the collection of points that the rain has drawn.
The section of the storm.
By the moonlight to the 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 sails we're to the tempest until the sea is still.
Which compulsion with this death tributize?
From behind the walls of my broken coughing tent, a vision,
but I allude to my passion for the obtuse
will this night end?
When the lightening finally tears through the mast of our ship.
All the hopes of the are betrayed by the grates.
On this coffin of a every note's another breaking wave.
Revel in this vision, a visitation, on the night with the light from above.
Famished dogs slowly as my own paws drag me to a dock,
to the last plank where I to deny myself the path that every Pisces craves,
just the water in the middle of that man-made lake.
On that pier I turn my eyes from the water like a mirror of in the moonlight,
and I for every crater that I could see,
on the surface of that we've come to call the moon.
Now I wonder if all those judgments that you were true.
And the trapdoor of the solstice is 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 gazing at a candle to find calm, but we all know its at the of the storm.
Oh moon, though me out, oh moon-
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall and walked the lowest of the dead
(to Carthage I came).
Only the most sacred crater suit my burial,
only the most sacred choir performs this dirge.
Perfectly imperfect, a storm.
By our dragged and bound to our grave by our mane,
to the grave dragged and bound to the tomb by the tooth.