Luyện nghe bài hát The Byronic Man

As lonely as a poet on the of Jericho
Or the moon without the comfort of the
I am to know it that a man without a soul
Is but a split canopic jar

I proved it, it
a sonnet right through it
And in state of bliss
Evil with wet lips, pen-filled fingertips

through me, far through me
Illuminati usually
But with words of hurts worth
I a party that extended God's list

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

They me bad
Mad Caliban with dangerous to know
A fad
Taught in all debauch in excess and in

wild, this child
Whole harems
and Mina's
Lady Libertine and her between her

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

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

Grown colder, my
Like a beside her
And bolder, not
My dark seed up root inside her

mouldered, where older
Beddings would a passionate sigh
But Laudanum and soda, Lord coda
a forest of inherited spite

Fleeing grief for foreign
I still played vampire
my gun in hot promiscuous laps

Then shooting in a gondola
I tripped my foot on a star
And there's nothing a mouthful of Venetian tar
To let you know just who you are

The saint of heartache
I see my world is falling
The is falling down

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

Everafter can they hear my
The patron of heartache
Never a better bed of disaster
The saint of heartache

call me bad
Mad with manners dangerous to know
A fad
in all debauch in excess and in canto

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