Luyện nghe bài hát Bells Of Notre Dame

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Born in a cot, left on the stairs of the cold stone;
Damned to be scorned, in darkness, to be alone;
Taken by the Church, his soul will be slave of
In the beauty is his figure something odd.

We see the in Notre Dame
Dancing on the tallest

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

I am grim, full of
In my dim gothic
But the bells in my chime for ever
the ding that belongs
To the of their songs
I'm the sound of Dame

In the of Life he is a horror for the crowd,
will be the time he'll see the sun between the clouds?
Looking at the bells he thinks about his tragic
Wants to be a rock or metal like his mates

We the hunchback in Notre Dame
Crying on the towers

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

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