Luyện nghe bài hát I Will Become The Reaping

Like maggots, they breed with headlines, dining the wounds in cadavers.
Mirror blind and aimed for gold. Now watch a turn on its own.
They race. And race to the carcass rot to feed.
And past decay, this design delivers life, but they prefer to play cancer.
In chase for the sky, towers uprise. In fear, the earth for what's forgot.
They cut like the butchers, with as their cleavers, as the tide prowls their shores.
They never listened when we screamed, "Wash the blood from hands.
Rip off the veils. Wash the blood from your hands and run, see you forgot."
Then the clouds met the as the cyclones began.
In epic rose the hordes, all branches and thorns.
As the stone from their walls broke as they crawled.
The stars had no mercy, they screamed for in their fall.
Six eyes pierce the and now...
24 teeth in each of the 3 makes 72 white knives new ending.
24 in each of the 3 makes 72 white knives your new ending.
every slaughter bring your kingdom home.
With every slaughter bring your home.
How are we this pain we are feeling?
How are we deserving pain with healing?
And on trails these of agony...
you see? We're still demanding self-pity.
Look to the of the things surrounding.
the only ones, the only ones who keep from growing.
One day the will return, and we'll be butchers no more.
Bring this home, and send everything above