Luyện nghe bài hát Angels Of Madness

In flight from reality, the misunderstood angels of madness dwell,
Taken with delusions that can only be by them, they openly share.
All things forbidden by the walls of conformity, on patterns and color,
We lay down, exhausted, drawing breath from forces everywhere.

The beat poet took a box from his bed, half-propped on one elbow,
He watched intrigue as I drew life from his perceptions, scrawled out,
In pencil, he portrayed life more clearly than Ive ever it before.
Unmasked, the pain and pleasure of the life of this loser, so brazenly rare.

I closed my and captured this moment in time.
The and cadence, mismatched and un-rhymed,
it plainer and clearer than excerpts, refined.

After for coffee at a local caf, I took him to see my new dwelling.
Once there, I took out my list of lovers to vex, lighting the with fire,
Reciting an incantation Id made up then and there; his expression
The corners of his mouth wryly up, his eyes danced with a fear he knew.

We looked into each others in silence, and he shared in my torment.
Like the night I casually read his for hours, unaware
That the sharing of our souls was a mutual purging and
We released others imprisoned emotions, all laid open and bare.

The beat nodded, as if, with a dare and a snare
He took my challenge, and we knew this,
Of our connectivity with those of madness, everywhere.