Luyện nghe bài hát Meurglys III, The Songwriter's Guild

(Hammill)

These days I mainly talk to plants and dogs,
all contact seems painful, risky, odd,
so I stay god in my own universe
where I cigarettes in return for songs.
The deal's made the longer I go on:
I find me from all but secret languages.

If only I could satisfactory words
in conversation, to my passion heard,
if only....

Meurglys III, my friend,
the only one that I can
to let it be pretence,
no-one else.
It's me, but in the end
there's no-one else I is true,
there's none in all the of men,
there's nothing
but my guitar...
I suppose have to do.

in tongues is easy when you know how,
quite pleasing, but nothing works out right.
Pressurised lungs, bleeding, you'd better slow down
and that you can make it through the night.
However dark it seems, the is just the present,
beyond it no further darkness lies
and through these dreams,
this longing for and comfort,
you know in the end all will be revealed.
no more plants or dogs or rooms are there to hear you,
and no-one is near you, then you'll see:
in the end there's only you and III,
and this is just what you to be.
(Fool!)

I know all this is just escape,
I run because I don't where the prison lies.
In songs like this I can the weight;
I'm still,
I until,
one day, I that I'll arrive.