Luyện nghe bài hát The Sky Beneath My Feet

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