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

(Hammill)

These I mainly just talk to plants and dogs,
all human contact painful, risky, odd,
so I stay acting god in my own
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 I could phrase satisfactory words
in conversation, to make my heard,
if only....

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

Talking in tongues is easy when you how,
quite pleasing, but still works out right.
Pressurised lungs, heart bleeding, you'd better slow
and show that you can it through the night.
However it seems, the present is just the present,
beyond it no further darkness lies
and these desperate dreams,
longing for friends and comfort,
you know that in the end all be revealed.
When no more plants or dogs or are there to hear you,
and no-one is left 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 bear the
I'm still,
I until,
one day, I that I'll arrive.