Luyện nghe bài hát Death Of The Gods

We on the shoulders of giants
Like atlas the burden of faith
We our hands in praise
of a conqueror's right to
This is a that has not passed
Our lips in one years

So I call to you
Partisans as one
raise your voices
If not all is lost

This is the death of the and make no

The is lost and Zeus is laughing
So Mars God of war can you send a bolt
To smash the of the blind
The Tiber is flowing with the blood of
men

And so we stood, among thieves, and

Whose names shall live in eternal and infamy
Disgraced kings enshrined with their men
Who ruled us all with the bloodied spear of

You knew my before I was born
You knew my from the moment it passed my

This is the death of the
Dead and with Pearse in the grave
Haunted to the end by the ghosts of Connolly's
Skeletal fingers on the of Collins' demise
And dreams are turned to nothing but dust

"And I say to my people's masters: beware, of the
thing that is coming, beware of the risen people, who
take we would not give.
Did ye think to conquer the people, or that law is
than and than men's desire to be free?"

(Padraig Pearse, "The Rebell")