Luyện nghe bài hát The Siren Song

(Hammill)

Letters in pencil, some of as heavy as lead,
as dated as carbon, as black as coal, but as red.
faintly stencilled: the message, though leeched, is unbled,
as secret as - as young, as old, as living, as dead.
And that laugh
that as though it's from pain:
though I'm lashed to the
it hammers round my brain.

in the backbone,
impossibly wise,
that same laughter comes
every I flash on that look in your eyes
which of a black zone
which'll all my credos as lies,
all logic is done
and will smash every theory I devise.
And the hour-glass is
only by the of your touch
where really matters....
No, Nothing matters much!

So the siren runs through the ages,
and it courses my veins like champagne;
and all the sweet kisses of addiction
it's calling me to break my again.

Future memory exploding shrapnel,
splinters escape on my tongue,
some of them comprehension...
beneath the scab they burn, but the becomes numb.
And always the draws me forward,
rejoicing in the and the prayer,
bored all but the mad, the strange,
the freak, the dare.
Still laugh chills my marrow
till I it on my knees....
Oh, when the mast a flagpole,
what of me?

What becomes, oh, what of me?