Luyện nghe bài hát Exercises In Futility II

The great truth is isn't one
And it only worse since that conclusion
The irony of being an to nothing
And the force of inertia is now a factor

And there is despair each and every action
Each and every attempt to pierce the armour of
bridges becomes a habit to support
And the front line expands there's no tomorrow

I the maggots
Their stuff at least sticks
than laudations of misinformed seers
And are lengthy annals of shame that we work with

like dumping dead meat at the brink of Styx
With a barge that we made of was left of Yggdrasil
After veterans of spiritual revolts were done with their
And I don't even remember brink is which

The of sanctity is just refined stench of existence
Shining of Augeas' crown pales in comparison

And there is despair underneath each and every
Each and every attempt to the armour of numbness
Burning bridges becomes a to support
And the front expands like there's no tomorrow

The eagles of misfortune, well fed on thanatos, sit still
It's the of scavengers at the ever growing garbage dump of life

There is something about the rigid posture of a proper, blind
As if extended arms reached to pass his blindness onto