Luyện nghe bài hát Bells Of Notre Dame

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Born in a sorry cot, left on the of the cold stone;
Damned to be scorned, in darkness, to be alone;
Taken by the Church, his soul will be of God;
In the belfry's beauty is his figure odd.

We see the in Notre Dame
Dancing on the towers

Arcades and spires, his heart,
Deep the choir, fine like the art
Is the my cell, is it?
Is God's home my
Oh, my prisions my poor soul,
I toll!

I am grim, full of
In my dim gothic
But the in my heart chime for ever
With the that belongs
To the king of their
I'm the of Notre Dame

In the Wheel of he is a horror for the crowd,
When will be the he'll see the sun between the clouds?
Looking at the bells he about his tragic fate
Wants to be a rock or metal like his souless

We the hunchback in Notre Dame
Crying on the tallest

Gargoyles and columns, his
Chants wich are solemn, his
Is place my cell, is it?
Is God's my hell?
Oh, my imprisons my poor soul
i toll!

I am grim, full of
In my dim gothic
But the in my heart chime for ever
With the ding belongs
To the king of songs
I'm the sound of Notre