Luyện nghe bài hát Bathory's Sainthood

Do you feel alive now you own the dead
Praying on their corpses, their hearts no feel
Your sainthood is on every starving face
Your given us a way to separate

The from their hate, the rich from the stone
Genuflect the sins that we've known
Sure one rules but heaven's made of gold
So chalk it up to folly and alone

Do we really want what we really need a bastard
Wrapped up in the dream of patriotic clean white desire
And every time the real defined, the trenches are filled
To battle lines, torches to bridges and bridges to torture
Headlines distort what we see as our

And gives us the right to feed with remorse for a God
They created, a God for the poor, for bathory bleeding
Out the devil hicks in shrouds, blasphemy as speaking
Out we've asked for it for of the same

Sad scheme of ghettos created by the elite
For our minds and burning, no longer
For freedom just more of the same