Luyện nghe bài hát A Louse Is Not A Home

Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very
sometimes I think disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line down my mirror :
glass distorts my face,
and the light is strong and strange
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 dark luck is just around the corner
and in the lurks the spectre of Despair.
A cracked mirror mid the drapes of the :
split image, labored understanding
I'm only trying to a place 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 if silent eyes are there.
My are spiders upon the page,
they spin out faith, hope and ----
but are they meet and just, or only
gathering my chair?
Sometimes I get the feeling that
someone else :
The faceless watcher me uneasy,
I can him through the floorboards,
and His presence is creepy
He informs me that I shall be ....
What is but out of and into :
I don't know the of the door that I'd go through,
I don't know the nature of the
that I am ....
I've in houses of brick and lead
where all is sacred,
and if you want to devour the
you must sniff at the fragrance
and lay your body before the
with poems and posies and papers
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 you use for protection?
Is it only somewhere you can stay?
Is it a or a lecture?
Is it a beating at the hands of your
Does the idol feet of clay?
is what you make it, so my friends
all say,
but I rarely see their in these dark days.
of them are snails and carry houses
on their
others live in which, one day,
be racks --
I keep my home in place sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I still there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the mirrors and the walls
keeps through the eye-slits of the portraits
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 here either.
I believe -- er -- I --
well, I know ......
I only live in one at a time,
but all of the are ears, all the windows, eyes :
else is foreign,
'Home' is my 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 out a place to be.
secret garlands about my head
unearthly silence is :
the room is growing dark, and in the light
I can see a face I ----
could be the guy who never shows
the cracked mirror what feeling,
mumbles 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 around, you might
your glasses
and if you do, you you just can't 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
except the I'm sitting 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 away
in the confines of silent house.
Sometimes it's very scary sometimes it's very sad;
I think I'll disappear; sometimes I think ..... "