Luyện nghe bài hát Bassem Sabry

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Look at our guitars
And, if not for the good weeping
All hear is sounds of our horses dying
But I'm not 'bout to crying about it

It must be fairly
To devolve cycloptic brooding
As the genocidal you rubbed
some perceived sedition
Insecurities of men everything up again

(Oh, a show wrote in in the gales, only)

I'll never follow no kind of voice
The mutinous tramp of cold voltage crucifixion is my

I watched my hero fail
Now I'm in a dark and violent
Every is a cellophane punk
If you me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)

There must be a softer vision that you kick to
In this gloom, I assume
sides are embarrassingly backwards in their thinking
Bearing no one to with, none I want to defend

(So the search, silly in love)

disappear on the wrong side of this revolution
When they resurface, a black hole in their skull
People disappear on the side of this revolution
When they'll return, all childhood memories are dead

I'll never no kind of master's voice
The mutinous of cold vulture crucifixion is my conduit

I just watched my fail
Now I'm in a and violent funk
Every is a cellophane punk
If you me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)

I'll never follow no kind of voice
The mutinous tramp of cold voltage is my conduit

I just watched my hero
Now I'm in a and violent funk
Every leader is a punk
If you me say "yeah!" (Yeah!)
"Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!) "Yeah!" (Yeah!)

Yeah!

I believe in
I in you
I in witches
I in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you

I believe in
I in you
I in witches
I in you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you