Luyện nghe bài hát Faint-heart And The Sermon

With my drained of colour
and my brain of
Billy Budd
I'm to the grating;
with growing duller
and quaking heart
I make a
at temperature
and my lungs suck air.
Like dancers
in formation
my understanding
in its movements,
contemplating
that could my bonds--
to be wrong
be, in me, improvement...
but my comprehensive are impaired.
And it absurd, but now all I've heard
fades in empty and is worthless
as the Laugh rocks the cenotaph
but the is half-true, and mirthless.
Trying to trace a
the spinning words
but all I've
at odds with their meanings,
phonetically
but delivered in such
that in place
my mind screaming.
On the verge of belief I onto the reef
and a thief steals my senses,
so I cling to the pew with askew,
and recognition present tenses.
All the
of the saints demonstrate that my
is a complaint, but the end is
in sight,
why can't I me a way to go?
I want to die in the nave,
but I know it may be me some day
so I've got to find a way I can up
my energies, and a cause to pray
so something for
to which I can my creed...
I'd gladly to the wave,
if I the water taught a way to light;
I'd succumb--I'm not brave,
and it's easy to believe the preacher says
except for the raging between my head
and my brain.
I want to die, but just the same--
day....
Waiting for that
I know will come
when I'll to run
and find sermon...
and Norman
and the talking
still, I am at
all the doors open.
Inside me all is shared.
As the cracked peal it all seems unreal
but the seventh seal stays
and the Offertory tenders no escape--
still I refuse to up a token
of esteem for these
alleyways of the
I try to divorce sense from sensing.
me again,
me the way to go.
So I talk to myself
although I take care to listen
my heart grows ever faint--
something missing?