Luyện nghe bài hát The Greatest Living Englishman

Here we are then, we are
from a suicide
And he will ever be
The Living Englishman

It's such a melancholy
Or a grey of no
coated surfaces
A space to his suitcase
As it's from A to B

But it's a melancholy blue
The curtains the bed are drawn
Broadcast voices from the
The humming of machines
But there are distances

Yes are distances between

His aspirations him nightly
And amounted to so
Too self in his writing
Now he never, ever be
The Living Englishman

The shifts into second gear
They're all aboard, for
It's a journey he must alone
The sheep boy is leaving home

It's been rehearsed a times or more
He's well of that he's sure
But still such a melancholy blue
As he a page of history
as he'd intended to

He wouldn't speak or show you he was
Though you'd meet him with eyes
was a wall that always stood between you
He'd shut himself

And the that he engendered
never be enough
For him to alive
and tender
He'd shut outside

Not a fake or a
But dug in and fighting
The world could not a man
With so much self in his

And he was gonna be
The Greatest Englishman
He had ideas his station
Minor virtues go

Little you fit like a straightjacket
by the genius of others
He
To conquer the is not to the trace
Remove even the shadow of the of your face

A of no significance