Luyện nghe bài hát Lonely Solipsist

Parrot, on your throne, mentally captured, are you?
Foot-soldered rooted in basement, alone.
Corporeality relinquished. molecules revolt.
like apparition of a long forgotten ghost.

Lonely Solipsist, sculpture in a cell!

pedometry, concrete throne.
Posture vocal your inflective prose, tethered philosophy, encrypted psychiatry.

Powers of rendition on a world, a pawn.
Monet for thoughts spoken never heard.
Tragic for one Pygmalion soul.
Manas in through an infinite cosmos.

Destruction.
Destruction is the ultimate creation so, your children, regret.

Like those to divine inventions, like all to the planet.
So, Lonely Solipsist, what rhyparography my eyes?
Bituminoid lucidity, in lumens, hides.
What happen if your trompe-loeil was exposed?
One brain stacked up eight heads high in proportion.

Gravid crush the skulls in savage rebellion.
by observation, translated erudition, so many creators cognitively collide like a pride of pan-psychics.
Upon whom this insistent obloquy? Power of observer granted power of intent. The Painters brush the Writers words, the sinners repent.
I declare this pen a syringe! foreign brains!

Obligor base knowledge on fiction anyways.
Pass the blame like nested Russian Dolls, inertly decaying. Smite the epiphenomenalism! those bound to faith!