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

(Hammill)

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

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

III, he's my friend,
the one that I can trust
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, heart bleeding, you'd slow down
and show that you can it through the night.
However dark it seems, the present is the present,
it no further darkness lies concealed
and through these dreams,
longing for friends and comfort,
you know in the end all will be revealed.
When no more plants or or rooms are there to hear you,
and no-one is left near you, you'll see:
in the end there's you and Meurglys III,
and this is just what you to be.
(Fool!)

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