Luyện nghe bài hát A Crater To Cough In

This path 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 snow light, we are 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 with this miniature death tributize?
behind the walls of my broken coughing tent, a formal vision,
but I allude to my helpless for the obtuse
will this night end?
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 visitation, on the night with the light from above.
dogs follow 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 pier I turn my eyes from the water like a mirror of in the moonlight,
and I cough for every crater that I see,
on the surface of that coffin we've come to the moon.
Now I wonder if all those judgments that you were true.
And the trapdoor of the solstice is thrown wide, open.
Let them all sink, let them all through.
The talking, the spinning of a web- its all formal ritual.
The burning.
The question "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 among the lowest of the
(to Carthage I came).
Only the most sacred crater suit my burial,
only the most sacred performs this ritual dirge.
Perfectly imperfect, a storm.
By our mane dragged and to our grave by our mane,
to the grave dragged and to the tomb by the scavenger's tooth.