Luyện nghe bài hát A Louse Is Not A Home

Sometimes it's very scary here; sometimes it's very
I think I'll disappear; betimes I think I have.
There's a line snaking my mirror :
glass distorts my face,
and the light is strong and strange
it can't illuminate the musty corners of place.
is a lofty, lonely, Lohengrenic castle in the clouds --
I draw my murky there,
but seven dark luck is just around the corner
and in the shadows the spectre of Despair.
A mirror mid the drapes of the landing :
split image, understanding ----
I'm only trying to find a place to my home ....
I've lived in houses composed of
where every is charted,
but now the monitor are dark
and I can't if silent eyes are there.
My words are spiders the page,
they spin out faith, and reason ----
but are meet and just, or only dust
gathering about my
Sometimes I get the feeling there's
someone there :
The watcher makes me uneasy,
I can him through the floorboards,
and His is creepy ----
He me that I shall be expelled ....
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 of the nature
I am inside ....
I've in houses of brick and lead
where all is sacred,
and if you want to the fruit
you must sniff at the fragrance
and lay body before the shrine
with and posies and papers ----
or, if you spot the ruse, you'll have to
to stay, a monk, or leave, a vagrant.
What is this place you 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 rule-book or a
Is it a beating at the hands of 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 them are snails and carry
on their
live in monuments which, one day,
will be --
I keep my in place with sellotape
and tin-tacks,
but I feel there's some other Force here :
He who cracks the mirrors and the walls
keeps staring through the of the portraits
in my
He ravages my library and taps the --
I've never seen Him,
but I know He's in my
and if he away,
I can't stay 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, :
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 boning out a to be.
secret garlands about my head
unearthly is broken :
the is growing dark, and in the stark light
I can see a face I ----
could be the guy who never shows
the cracked mirror he's feeling,
mumbles prayers to the ground where
he's :
"Home is home is home is home is is home is me!"
All you looking for your houses,
don't your weight 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 just a I use to keep the dark
at bay,
and people are imaginary, nothing else
except the I'm sitting in,
and, of course, the all-pervading ---
sometimes I wonder if even real ....
Maybe I de-louse this place;
Maybe I should de-place this
Maybe I'll maybe my away
in the confines of this house.
Sometimes it's very scary here; it's very sad;
sometimes I I'll disappear; sometimes I think ..... "