Luyện nghe bài hát Fugazi

Vodka intimate, an affair with isolation in a cell
the fires in a private hell
Provoking the heartache to the license
Of a heart poet in a fragile capsule

Propping up the crust of the glitter
Wrapped in the shard of a hangover
Baptized in tears from the real, from the real

in the liquid seas on the picadilly line, rat-race
Scuttling through the damp labyrinth
(Caress Ophelia's hand with ambition)
(An in the marry time tradition)

Sheathed with the Walkman wear the of distortion
Aural contraceptive pregnant conversation
(She turned the and it pierced my heart)
(She hung around my neck)

From the time-life in their conscience bubbles
and dry in my sea of troubles
Nine to fives, suitable ties

Cast adrift as their
(Sideshow)

(Peepshow)
Stereo hero becalm, be still,
Drowning, drowning in the

The thief of hides in Islington now
Praying deportation for his cow
A of romance from a twilight world
The dowry of a relative mystery

A Vietnamese flower, a dockland
A mistress of from a magazine's thighs
Magdalene's contract more than
The feeding hands of western promise hold her by the

A son of the Swastika of '45, parading a standard
Graffiti disciples conjure testaments of
Aerosol wands whisper where the
Trim the wire hedges, this is Brixton chess

A knight for embankments folds his castle
A creature of habit, the boatman's coin
He'll fade old soldiers in the grease stained roll call
And linger with the heartburn of Good Friday's last

Son watches father scan columns
In of absent school friends
While his generation digests high ignorance
Cowering behind curtains and the taped up, painted

Decriminalized
Provided door to Belsens
Pandora's box of
cruising satellite infested heavens

Waiting, waiting the of the button
The penultimate
Radioactive perfumes for the
For the terminally insane,

you realize
Do-do-do you
you realize
This world is totally

Where are the prophets, are the visionaries?
Where are the poets to the dawn of the sentimental mercenary?
Where are the prophets, where are the
Where are the poets to breach the dawn of the sentimental
Where are the prophets, where are the
Where are the poets to breach the of the sentimental mercenary?

are the prophets?