Luyện nghe bài hát Fairwell to Pripchat

It was a friday in 1986,
The day nightmare begun,
the dust it fell down on our buildings and streets,
And entered our at noon,
Touched the grass and trees, bicycyles,
Beds, and picture frames too,
We stood helpless, confused,
knew what to do.

At two o'clock on sunday the arrived,
A fleet of a or more,
We were to be on our way,
Not what lay in store ,
Some of our citizens in dismay,
And looked for a good to hide,
four o'clock came and the last bus pulled out,
T'was the day that our town died.

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And the shirts, sheets and hankerchiefs in the wind,
On the window ledge the plants,
And the ladas and volgas are by the door,
And the in it's usual stance.
Our evergreen tree withered and drooped,
They've poisoned our land,
The streets speak a silence,
stirs but the sand.

A visit back is so eerie today,
A modern in view,
To see all the old shops ond the hotel,
And the cinema too.
The we gathered all left behind,
Our photos and and cards,
The toys of our untouchable now,
Toy soldiers standing on guard.

So fare thee pripchat, my home and my soul,
sorrow can know no relief.
A glimpse of the future you show,
Your children all scattered geese,
The clothes lines still sways but the owners gone.
As the era returns,
The questions in and white blurred into grey,
The answer is too to learn.

(chorus)

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