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 betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking down my :
splintered 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 seven years' dark is just around the corner
and in the lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mid the drapes of the landing :
split image, understanding ----
I'm only trying to find a to hide my home ....
I've in houses composed of glass
where every is charted,
but now the monitor screens are
and I can't tell if silent are there.
My words are upon the page,
they out faith, hope and reason ----
but are they meet and just, or only
gathering my chair?
I get the feeling that there's
someone there :
The watcher makes me uneasy,
I can feel him the floorboards,
and His is creepy ----
He informs me 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 don't know the of the nature
that I am ....
I've in houses of brick and lead
all emotion is sacred,
and if you want to devour the
you must first at the fragrance
and lay body before 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 you call home?
Is it a sermon or a
Is it the chalice that you use for
Is it only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of Protector?
the idol have feet of clay?
Home is you make it, so my friends
all say,
but I rarely see their homes in these days.
Some of are snails and carry houses
on backs;
others in monuments which, one day,
will be --
I keep my home in with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I feel there's some other Force here :
He who the mirrors and moves the walls
staring through the eye-slits of the portraits
in my
He ravages my library and the telephone --
I've actually seen Him,
but I He's in my home
and if he away,
I can't stay either.
I -- er -- I think --
well, I don't ......
I live in one room 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 by flesh and bone,
I am a of living,
I am a hermit, I am a drone,
and I am boning out a to be.
With garlands about my head
silence is broken :
the room is growing dark, and in the stark
I can see a face I know
this be the guy who never shows
the mirror what he's feeling,
merely prayers to the ground where
kneeling :
"Home is is home is home is home is home is me!"
All you people for your houses,
don't throw your around, you might
break your
and if you do, you you just can't see
and then how are you to the dawning
of the
--- Day is a word I use to keep the dark
at bay,
and are imaginary, nothing else exists
except the I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the mist ---
sometimes I if even that's real ....
Maybe I should this place;
Maybe I should de-place this
Maybe I'll maybe my life
in the confines of silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes very sad;
sometimes I think I'll disappear; I think ..... "