Luyện nghe bài hát Exercises In Futility VI

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

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

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

It's like dumping dead meat at the brink of
With a that we made of what was left of Yggdrasil
veterans of spiritual revolts were done with their armchairs
And I don't remember which brink is which

The odour of sanctity is refined stench of existence
Shining pearl of crown pales in comparison

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

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

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