Luyện nghe bài hát Babalon A.D.

I bled on a pivotal
Like a clockwork
sore stigmata, bored

And as I Job, I drove
Myself to a martyred
To see if I pity
Or pretty litanies from the

So the plot
With the coming of
Ill millennia
the claret I sprayed

And though saw red
I a dirty white stain
A splintered in the grain
On Eden's aid

So glad for the

I the walls, naked to the moon
In Sodom and
And through rich and corridors
Of the Vatican, I led a sordid on

I read the text
So that mortals
As live for the dead

And as I broke hope, I
Another pope manna peel
Dictating to De
In the dark of the Bastille

And as he wrote, I
A blow to the heads of France
And in the sheen of
I saw others, fallen,

I was an
Necromantic old
A phagadaena that
over the past

A rabid in shawl
A razor's edge to the
That the stars
never destined to last

So glad for the

I furnaced dreams, a poet, for of
sermons with the smell
On fingers
Where bad lingered
Burning, as when Dante was to map Hell

I sired schemes and the
To sight of the seams
And the in between

And midst the lips and the
Of this of a world
In glimpses, I see
A nymph with for me

Eyes of fire that set all aflame
Lights that art
In sight, that no device of pain
Could prise their secrets my heart

I knew not her
Though her was the same
Without a whisper of
As virtue or sin's

And to her curve
I felt my destiny
damnation reserved
To a grin

So glad for the