Luyện nghe bài hát Crux Of The Message

[Adapted from the poem "The Storm" by Alison LR

It starts as a purr, rippling, beckoning,
stealing the baking heat.
It steps to the side, tapping, hop skipping.
formation, no sense of the beat.
And then the mean, heartrending echo.
Low and beguiling, the show.
The murmur resounding, a of air.
As emerge, the wind starts to blow.

He's coming, coming, the crux of the message.
A swordsman, no mercy to spare.
He'll and he'll sever with sparkling precision.
The his fortune, the dragon - this air.

And run for cover,
know of his venom.
The fury with he will mount his attack.
But with a nerve,
and bubbling
Won't be so to hide or turn back.
With a crack of his
the tears cascading.
Great of truth washing over the land.
In or in pity, in fear or forgiveness.
The is slain, the demon at hand.

He's coming, coming, the crux of the message.
A swordsman, no mercy to spare.
He'll slice and he'll sever with precision.
The weapon his fortune, the dragon - air.

And the threatening rumble, a music faded,
a great now rendered complete.
The mottle blue now
gather in whispers, to for the encore.
A cloudless sheet.