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 know it that a man a soul
Is but a split canopic jar

I it, improved it
Drove a sonnet through it
And in state of bliss
Evil kissed wet lips, pen-filled fingertips

Which through me, far me
usually pissed
But words of some hurts worth
I threw a that extended God's list

Exciting new that my fame would claim for me
Reciting back the of travesties

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

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

What spread of when lovers die
Which circle of hell is when I arrive

They me bad
Mad Caliban with manners dangerous to
A fad
Taught in all crow against the virgin snow

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

mouldered, where older
Beddings would hold a passionate
But and soda, Lord Numb coda
Merited a of inherited spite

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

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

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

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

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

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

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