Luyện nghe bài hát A Louse Is Not A Home

Sometimes it's very scary here; it's very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; I think I have.
There's a snaking down my mirror :
splintered glass my face,
and though the light is and strange
it illuminate the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the --
I draw my murky there,
but seven years' luck is just around the corner
and in the lurks the spectre of Despair.
A mirror 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
every movement is charted,
but now the monitor screens are
and I can't tell if silent are there.
My are spiders upon the page,
they spin out faith, and reason ----
but are they meet and just, or only
about my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling there's
someone else :
The watcher makes me uneasy,
I can feel him the floorboards,
and His presence is ----
He informs me that I be expelled ....
What is but out of and into :
I don't know the nature of the that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the
that I am ....
I've in houses of brick and lead
all emotion is sacred,
and if you want to devour the
you first sniff at the fragrance
and lay body before the shrine
with poems and and papers ----
or, if you the ruse, you'll have to choose
to stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
is this place you call home?
Is it a sermon or a
Is it the chalice that you use for
Is it really only somewhere you can
Is it a or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your
Does the idol have feet of
Home is you make it, so my friends
all say,
but I rarely see their in these dark days.
Some of are snails and carry houses
on backs;
others live in which, one day,
will be --
I keep my home in place with
and tin-tacks,
but I still feel there's some other Force :
He who cracks the mirrors and the walls
keeps staring the eye-slits of the portraits
in my
He my library and taps the telephone --
I've never seen Him,
but I know in my home
and if he away,
I can't here either.
I -- er -- I think --
well, I don't ......
I only in one room at a time,
but all of the walls are ears, all the windows, :
else is foreign,
'Home' is my 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 out a place to be.
With secret about my head
unearthly is broken :
the room is growing dark, and in the light
I can see a I know ----
could be the guy who never shows
the mirror what he's feeling,
merely mumbles prayers to the ground
he's :
"Home is home is home is home is home is 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 word I use to keep the
at bay,
and people are imaginary, else exists
except the room I'm in,
and, of course, the all-pervading ---
sometimes I if even that's real ....
Maybe I should de-louse this
Maybe I de-place this louse;
Maybe I'll maybe my life
in the confines of this house.
Sometimes very scary here; sometimes it's very sad;
sometimes I think I'll sometimes I think ..... "