Luyện nghe bài hát The Sky Beneath My Feet

O come ye young of Hamlyn--you who know my so well,
Where it beckons you must it Heaven (be it Hell).
Forget your mothers grieving as I you down the street,
With a in my pocket--and the sky beneath my feet.
Chameleons bask in the 'arc-lite' reflection--awaiting a curtain call,
And here the wings I have watched them and wondered if God does exist
all.
On life's 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 time that you learned there is no
back,
All your airs and graces vacate their places for the qualities you lack.
empty vessels made most sound--not one wise word was said,
Vainglory hunters seek their prey where fear to tread.
FOLLOW ME--follow and I lead,
truth that hurts like stick and stone.
When rats that scuttled ships
Birds of a feather their own.
To their dreams a lantern that outshines the brightest star,
Turn into battlecries the winds shall carry far.
When hearts shielded by conviction--keeping beats so and strong,
Are at last as one united (a of steel--The Sword of Song).
We gathered together as sister and to dance when the world was abed,
Until the next dawn in the grey light of morning lambs to the slaughter
led
Out of the shadows these vagabonds congregate (those who have to their
guns),
While tinseltown satellites frantically circulate orbiting 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 make-believe the things came for free,
Why I trust my plans in the 'capable' hands of a shallow fool like thee.
ME--follow and I will lead,
With truth hurts like stick and stone,
When rats scuttled ships departed--
of a feather sought their own.
The goose that lays the golden egg--I'll and bury it,
If you don't believe me watch me as its grave I spit,
Worldly treasures no worth--but self-respect is beyond price,
And Hell's the best alternative when faced with fool's paradise.
Some say I the hand that feeds--but to these disillusioned eyes
sweet revenge to watch it bleed (it has only fed me lies),
The dead horses you flogging could not rise and stand upon its legs,
Behold the has been cured and nevermore shall beg.