Luyện nghe bài hát Faint-heart And The Sermon

With my face of colour
and my brain of
Billy Budd
I'm to the grating;
with senses growing
and with quaking
I a start
at equating
and my suck useless air.
Like paraplegic
in team
my seems
in its movements,
contemplating
that could my bonds--
to be half
be, in me, improvement...
but my faculties 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
from the spinning
but all heard
seem at odds with meanings,
phonetically
but delivered in haste
in their place
my mind screaming.
On the of belief I crash onto the reef
and a cynical steals my senses,
so I to the pew with dimensions askew,
and refuses present tenses.
All the
of the demonstrate that my faint
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 it may be with me some day
so got to find a way I can save up
my energies, and a cause to pray
so for something
to which I can my creed...
I'd gladly to the wave,
if I thought the taught a way to light;
I'd gladly not brave,
and it's to believe what the preacher says
for the conflict raging between my head
and my brain.
I don't want to die, but the same--
day....
Waiting for that
that I will come
when I'll to run
and find sermon...
and Norman
and the talking
still, I am at
holding all the open.
me all outside is shared.
As the cracked bells it all seems unreal
but the seventh seal unbroken
and the plate tenders no escape--
still I refuse to up a token
of for these false
alleyways of the
I try to divorce sense from sensing.
me again,
me the way to go.
So when I to myself
although I good care to listen
my heart ever more faint--
something missing?