Luyện nghe bài hát Fertile Fields

Sometimes those simple things turn the trick no more
And our self-important dreams they all lie on the floor
Even the proletariat his royalty
And as the battle on and on I wish it wasn't me
And it so cruel
The last one up
Until the winter it's worth
As we upon the earth
Now the trees are swept aside by wind and sheets of
And the fields once gilded have now withered and refrained
She who for comfort feels instead a savage thrust
And the ashen sky grows ever as dawn gives way to dust
As we set our dogs upon the
Feast on the dead until no remains
Forward towards a pointless end we squander never