Luyện nghe bài hát The Great Elsewhere

Talking, what's it good
nothing.
Wrestle, wrestle.
You can pin me to anything.

I saw you in the seaweed.
Thought I saw you in a flame.
I'll fill up the silence the sound of your holy name.

Knowledge of the sea-ways, knowledge of how the flows.
Whoever coined the phrase has never had to the snow.
I climbed the shroud to the top-sail and I through the glass.
The curvature by the wintry mizzen mast.

The scar my stomach, I call it my Flying V.
And every time I show it, I can feel your on me.
How islands will surrender to the blunderbuss?
And, how must we sail before you show your face to us?

him out to the end of the pier.
"Don't any closer," he cried, "I am afraid
Of the man become if I lay my
Life down for a people that I don't care for."
to his face, I put my
Hand into his and I tried to him, "No,
I've his work upon the panes of cathedrals,
In the sweat of the and the flight of the seagulls."

My words were drowned out by the
Of the and rowers, the ship as it ran aground
And from the came a thousand soldiers.
I went down on my knees a spear in my shoulder.
About face, about face, I back
To the Victoria. I with the
Memory, memory of the dwellers
And the of the Storyteller.