Luyện nghe bài hát Exercises In Futility VI

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

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

I envy the
Their stuff at least together
than laudations of misinformed seers
And those are lengthy annals of shame that we work

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 armchairs
And I even remember which brink is which

The odour of is just refined stench of existence
pearl of Augeas' crown pales in comparison

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

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

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