Luyện nghe bài hát Lonely Solipsist

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

Lonely Solipsist, sculpture in a cell!

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

of rendition on a capricious world, a pawn.
Monet for thoughts spoken never heard.
auditorium for one Pygmalion soul.
Manas in transcendence through an cosmos.

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

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

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

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