Luyện nghe bài hát Crux Of The Message

[Adapted from the "The Storm" by Alison LR Davies]

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

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

And run for cover,
know of his venom.
The fury with which he mount his attack.
But those a nerve,
and curiosity
be so hasty to hide or turn back.
With a crack of his
the tears cascading.
Great rivers of 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 silvery swordsman, no to spare.
He'll slice and he'll sever sparkling precision.
The weapon his fortune, the dragon - air.

And the threatening rumble, a soon faded,
a great composition now complete.
The mottle blue now
in whispers, to wait for the encore.
A black sheet.