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

(Hammill)

These days I mainly just talk to and dogs,
all human seems painful, risky, odd,
so I acting god in my own universe
where I cigarettes in return for songs.
The made harder the longer I go on:
I find me from all but secret languages.

If only I could phrase words
in conversation, to make my heard,
if only....

III, he's 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 I know is true,
there's in all the masks of men,
nothing else
but my guitar...
I he'll have to do.

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

Though I know all is just escape,
I run because I know where the prison lies.
In songs like this I can bear the
I'm still,
I until,
one day, I hope I'll arrive.