Luyện nghe bài hát The Byronic Man

As lonely as a poet on the Walls of
Or the moon without the comfort of the
I am loathe to it that a man without a soul
Is nothing but a split jar

I it, improved it
a sonnet right through it
And in this state of
kissed with wet lips, pen-filled fingertips

Which me, far through me
Illuminati pissed
But with of some hurts worth
I threw a party that extended God's

Exciting new flames that my fame would for me
Reciting the almanac of travesties

They me bad
Mad Caliban with manners to know
A fad
in all debauch in excess and in canto

Grown wild, child
Whole harems
Faustina's and
Lady Libertine and her between her

What spread of lies when die
Which circle of is mine when I arrive

call me bad
Mad Caliban with dangerous to know
A fad
Taught in all debauch crow the virgin snow

Grown colder, my
Like a boulder her
And bolder, not
My seed took up root inside her

That mouldered, older
Beddings would a passionate sigh
But Laudanum and soda, Lord Numb
Merited a of inherited spite

grief for foreign maps
I played vampire aristocrats
my gun in hot promiscuous laps

Then shooting swans in a
I tripped my foot on a fallen
And nothing like a mouthful of Venetian tar
To let you know who you fucking are

The patron of heartache
I can't see my is falling
The is falling down

The saint of heartache
I can't see my is falling
The is falling down

Everafter can hear my laughter
The patron saint of
craft a better bed of disaster
The patron of heartache

call me bad
Mad Caliban manners dangerous to know
A fad
Taught in all in excess and in canto

They me bad
Mad Caliban with manners to know
A fad
Whereupon I tell them to go fuck their
And so on my