Luyện nghe bài hát Feast of Friends

Wow, I'm sick of
Live in the light of

bindings.
The servants the power
and their mean women
Pulling blankets over
Our

I'm sick of dour
at me from the TV
Tower, I roses in
My garden bower;
Royal babies,
Must now aborted
in the mud
These mutants,
For the plant plowed.

They are to take us into
The garden
Do you know how pale and thrillful
Comes death on a strange
Unannounced, for
a scaring over-friendly guest you've
to bed
Death angels of us all
And us wings
we had shoulders
Smooth as

No more money, no more dress
This kingdom seems by far the best
it's other jaw reveals incest
And loose to a vegetable law.

I not go
a Feast of Friends
To the Family.