Luyện nghe bài hát The Sky Beneath My Feet

O ye young of Hamlyn--you who know my tune so well,
Where it beckons you must follow--be it (be it Hell).
Forget mothers grieving as I pipe you down the street,
With a in my pocket--and the sky beneath my feet.
bask in the 'arc-lite' reflection--awaiting a chance curtain call,
And here from the wings I have watched and wondered if God does exist
all.
On Ferris Wheel all the dreamers ride free (from the top you can only
go down),
No-one but yourself is to blame if you presume to upon water then drown.
Now your bridges are burned--it is that you learned there is no turning
back,
All your and graces should vacate their places for the qualities you lack.
Though empty vessels made most sound--not one wise was said,
Vainglory hunters seek their prey where angels to tread.
ME--follow and I will lead,
With that hurts like stick and stone.
When rats that scuttled departed--
Birds of a feather sought own.
To make their dreams a lantern that the brightest star,
Turn whispers into battlecries the winds carry far.
When shielded by conviction--keeping beats so pure and strong,
Are at last as one (a communion of steel--The Sword of Song).
We gathered together as and brother to dance when the world was abed,
Until the next dawn in the grey light of morning these to the slaughter
led
Out of the these vagabonds congregate (those who have stuck to their
guns),
While tinseltown satellites frantically orbiting mirror-ball suns.
I will not play a part in this infantile offer I decline,
walls of pretension to conceal your intentions was just a waste of
time.
Though in your life of the best things came for free,
Why should I trust my plans in the hands of a shallow fool like thee.
FOLLOW ME--follow and I lead,
With truth hurts like stick and stone,
When rats their scuttled departed--
Birds of a sought their own.
The goose lays the golden egg--I'll sacrifice and bury it,
If you don't me watch me as upon its grave I spit,
Worldly treasures have no worth--but self-respect is price,
And the best alternative when faced with your fool's paradise.
say I bite the hand that feeds--but to these disillusioned eyes
'tis sweet revenge to watch it (it has only fed me lies),
The dead horses you were flogging could not and stand upon its legs,
Behold the leper-minstrel has been cured and shall beg.