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

(Hammill)

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

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

Meurglys III, my friend,
the one that I can trust
to let it be pretence,
there's else.
killing me, but in the end
there's no-one else I is true,
there's in all the masks of men,
there's else
but my guitar...
I he'll have to do.

in tongues is easy when you know how,
quite pleasing, but still works out right.
Pressurised lungs, heart bleeding, better slow down
and that you can make it through the night.
However dark it seems, the is just the present,
beyond it no darkness lies concealed
and through desperate dreams,
longing for friends and comfort,
you know that in the end all be revealed.
When no more or dogs or rooms are there to hear you,
and no-one is left near you, then you'll
in the end there's you and Meurglys III,
and is just what you chose to be.
(Fool!)

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