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 section of the storm.
By the to the gateposts of the forest,
in the light, we are bound for the portal of the pines.
as famine, on this path against our will by our main sails we're bound to the tempest until the sea is still.
Which compulsion with this death tributize?
From behind the walls of my coughing tent, a formal vision,
but I allude to my helpless 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 another breaking wave.
Revel in this vision, a formal visitation, on the with the light from above.
Famished dogs follow slowly as my own paws me to a dock,
to the last plank where I struggle to deny myself the that every Pisces craves,
above the water in the middle of that man-made lake.
On pier 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 coffin come to call the moon.
Now I wonder if all those judgments that you were true.
And the trapdoor of the is thrown wide, wide open.
Let them all sink, let them all through.
The talking, the of a web- its all just formal ritual.
The burning.
The question "what do you deserve?"
The gazing at a candle to calm, but we all know its at the center of the storm.
Oh moon, though pluckest me out, oh
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall and among the lowest of the dead
(to Carthage I came).
Only the most crater will suit my burial,
only the most sacred choir performs ritual dirge.
imperfect, like a storm.
By our mane and bound to our grave by our mane,
to the grave dragged and to the tomb by the scavenger's tooth.