Luyện nghe bài hát A Louse Is Not A Home

Sometimes it's scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a snaking down my mirror :
glass distorts my face,
and though the light is strong and
it can't the musty corners of this place.
is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
I my murky meanings there,
but years' dark luck is just around the corner
and in the lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mid the drapes of the landing :
split image, labored understanding
I'm only trying to find a place to my home ....
I've lived in houses of glass
where every is charted,
but now the screens are dark
and I can't if silent eyes are there.
My words are upon the page,
they spin out faith, and reason ----
but are they meet and just, or only
gathering my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling there's
else there :
The faceless makes me uneasy,
I can feel him the floorboards,
and His presence is ----
He informs me I shall be expelled ....
What is that but out of and :
I don't the nature of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the of the nature
that I am ....
I've lived in houses of and lead
where all is sacred,
and if you want to devour the
you must sniff at the fragrance
and lay your body the shrine
with poems and posies and ----
or, if you the ruse, you'll have to choose
to stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you call
Is it a or a confession?
Is it the chalice that you use for
Is it really only somewhere you can
Is it a or a lecture?
Is it a at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol feet of clay?
Home is what you it, so my friends
all say,
but I rarely see homes in these dark days.
of them are snails and carry houses
on their
others in monuments which, one day,
be racks --
I keep my home in place sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I still feel there's some other Force :
He who cracks the mirrors and moves the
keeps staring through the eye-slits of the
in my
He my library and taps the telephone --
I've never actually Him,
but I He's in my home
and if he away,
I can't stay either.
I -- er -- I think --
well, I know ......
I only live in one at a time,
but all of the walls are ears, all the windows, :
Everything is foreign,
is my wordless chant :
mmmmmaah!
it a chance!
I am surrounded by and bone,
I am a of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
and I am boning out a to be.
With secret garlands my head
unearthly silence is :
the room is growing dark, and in the light
I can see a face I ----
could this be the guy who never
the cracked what he's feeling,
merely prayers to the ground where
he's :
"Home is home is is home is home is home is me!"
All you looking for your houses,
don't throw your weight around, you
your glasses
and if you do, you know you just see
and then how are you to find the
of the
--- Day is just a I use to keep the dark
at bay,
and people are imaginary, else exists
the room I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the mist ---
sometimes I wonder if even real ....
Maybe I de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place louse;
Maybe I'll my life away
in the of this silent house.
it's very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; I think ..... "