Luyện nghe bài hát Childlike Faith In Childhood's End

(Hammill)

Existence is a stage on we pass,
a sleepwalk trick for mind and
hopeless, I know,
but onward I go
and try to make a
at seeing something more day-to-day
survival chased by death.
If I this the sum
of the to which we've come
I wouldn't my breath.
Somehow, must be more.
There was a time when more was felt
known,
but now, inside my sett,
in light more mundane, rattles round
my
we live, we die...and

In the beginning there was and destiny
but now path has reached the border, and
on our
is no way to face the future, it be.
Though the forces which hold us in
through eons in unruffled grace
we, too, the face of creation.

As anti-matter sucks and periodically
the bud unfolds, the is dead, all space
is history.
It seems as though time must us, yet
we're
and I see no God to save us yet we

through the of progress
don't get us very far.
All illusion! All is
we don't yet know we are...
laughing, hoping, praying, joking, Son of Man!
With eyes but lifting hearts, we're
of sand
and though, in time, the sea may us for
its own
we are the which root the future - on us
it grows!

We might not be to share it
if a jest
but I think that I can it
if the next is the best.
Even if there is a heaven we die
endless bliss would be as as the lie
that always comes as answer to the
"Why do we see through the of creation?"

Adrift without a course, very lonely here,
our only conjecture what lies the dark.
Still, I find I can to a lifeline,
think of a lifetime means more
than my own
dreams of a thing than we are.
Time and hang heavy on my shoulders:
when all life is who can say
no mutated force shall
the towers of the city are denied to we
men of
still we know we shall scale the some
day.
in the silence-
frightened, but thinking hard,
let us computations of the stars.

Older, wiser, sadder, blinder, watch us
faster, longer, harder, stronger, now it
colour blisters, image gravitate
towards the centre, in final
disintegrate.
The now beckons
and Man, too, take His place...
just a few last fleeting
to in the waste
and the children who ourselves move on
reincarnation its now perfected song
and at last we are free of the of creation.

All the and gaolers, all the junkies and
too,
all the throng who have danced a merry
we can all be,
but we must rise above,
in the name of all faith and and love.
There's a for all pilgrims, and a time for
the too,
there's a time when we all stand alone and

naked to the
naked, but in the overview...
as we reach Childhood's End we anew.

And though is the highway
and the distance breaks my heart,
for I never see it, still I play my part,
believing what waits for us
is the cosmos compared to the of the
past...
in the death of mere Human life shall