Luyện nghe bài hát A Louse Is Not A Home

Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's sad;
I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a snaking down my mirror :
splintered glass my face,
and though the is strong and strange
it can't the musty corners of this place.
There is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the --
I my murky meanings there,
but seven years' dark luck is just around the
and in the lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror mid the of the landing :
split image, understanding ----
I'm only to find a place to hide my home ....
I've lived in composed of glass
where every is charted,
but now the monitor are dark
and I tell if silent eyes are there.
My are spiders upon the page,
they spin out faith, hope and ----
but are they meet and just, or dust
gathering about my
Sometimes I get the feeling there's
someone else :
The faceless makes me uneasy,
I can him through the floorboards,
and His presence is ----
He me that I shall be expelled ....
is that but out of and into :
I don't know the nature of the that I'd go through,
I know the nature of the nature
that I am ....
I've lived in houses of brick and
where all is sacred,
and if you want to devour the
you first sniff at the fragrance
and lay your body before the
with poems and and papers ----
or, if you spot the ruse, 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 that you use for protection?
Is it really only somewhere you can
Is it a rule-book or a
Is it a at the hands of your Protector?
Does the idol feet of clay?
Home is you make it, so my friends
all say,
but I see their homes in these dark days.
Some of are snails and carry houses
on backs;
others live in which, one day,
will be --
I my home in place with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I still there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the and moves the walls
keeps staring through the eye-slits of the
in my
He my library and taps the telephone --
I've actually seen Him,
but I He's in my home
and if he away,
I can't here either.
I believe -- er -- I --
well, I know ......
I only live in one at a time,
but all of the walls are ears, all the windows, :
Everything 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
silence is broken :
the room is growing dark, and in the light
I can see a face I ----
this be the guy who never shows
the mirror what he's feeling,
merely prayers to the ground where
he's :
"Home is home is home is home is is home is me!"
All you people for your houses,
throw your weight around, you might
break your
and if you do, you know you just see
and then how are you to find the
of the
--- Day is a word I use to keep the dark
at bay,
and people are imaginary, else exists
the room I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the all-pervading ---
sometimes I wonder if even real ....
Maybe I should this place;
Maybe I should de-place this
Maybe I'll my life away
in the of this silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; I think ..... "