Luyện nghe bài hát Behind The Crooked Cross

One man, one vision, purity,
or magician? A mystery to me,
he who scorns the of
count the cost,
there's more superstition
behind the crooked cross.

Our destiny in
we by our mistakes,
each strata of society
the infiltrates,
hatred to the embers
'till the burns out of hand,
to spread the cloud swiftly
our 'Green and Pleasant Land'

in ignorance,
out of is out of mind,
while children weep on city
the deceive the blind,
they say 'welcome lost brother
all he touches to gold',
yet my 'brother' to kill me
out of so I am told.

My blood yours shall mingle,
our unify,
if our hearts are as one
we can never die.

Now the 'Dove of lies dead,
this land our fathers bled,
and 'Drakes Drum' deserted on the sand,
I see the keepers of the
to pieces in the streets,
victims of the of man'.

History repeats itself, of fact I am sure,
stupidity us if its lessons we ignore,
so these words of warning
it is too late,
to preach the 'New
the of hate.

My blood yours shall mingle,
our unify,
if our are joined as one
we can never die.

Now the 'Dove of Peace' dead,
upon this land our bled,
and 'Drakes lies deserted on the sand,
I see the keepers of the
hacked to in the streets,
victims of the of man'.

One man's condition, insanity?
a submission, embracing destiny,
driven by compulsion, by the Vril,
do not mock the Cross, its power
is still.