Luyện nghe bài hát Forbidden Crypts

We the greasepaint in the air,
They stumbled into last night, completely unaware,
in shirts of mesh and with mascara on their eyes
We saw a player and we knew they had to die.
They played a at Ivan's Inn,
underneath the stage we heard the caterwauling din,
They of forests, elves, and trolls,
The urge to kill them on the spot we barely could
the show they all got drunk,
Apparently to celebrate a set that stunk,
To the graveyard they predictably call,
These lords of chaos whined their tour bus being small
spoke of Norway and "the scene"
The of laughing Ghouls reverberated through the trees
"We should some pictures!" the one in chain mail said,
"That's it." Cremator growled, "It's these idiots were dead."
They scattered rats when they saw Ghoul attack,
The was the first to go, a hook in his back
Machetes were sinking painted flesh
Carnage and gore soaking leather and
The keyboardist but Fermentor just laughed
We hacked off his and then chopped him in half
The vocalist was with his very guts
His back-up expired from her cuts
brain pans as a matter of course
Violently murdering with no fucking
Their bassist, to a boobytrap, a toll
His head gained five or six extra holes
The blood from his mouth made a hot, steamy
We savoured the moment, then off his feet
Both of the guitarists made a run for the
Digestor cut them off and sealed fate
One of them while the other was killed,
His tears did no good as his skull was still
Slicing and dicing, our obsession
Of slaughtering poseurs, we've a profession
In our forbidden...
crypts!!!