Luyện nghe bài hát Island

The wind blows keen the ridge
against a charcoal grey
We climb up here by the winding path made so ago
In the below the last few lights
glow just like the embers of a
We begin to remember, we begin to

We came by the sea and we took the
We spread out the plains
And on and on to the
Until there was left to conquer
The sound of chopping trees echoed through the
We built the and the houses
and the and the fortifications
Until was nothing left to build with
Now in the grey dome of the sky
The fly home for winter
And we all come down to the shore and stare across the
We've got to get off the

We carved to the angry gods
We hauled stone the deserts of our own making
From the standing stones to the
To the shining palaces looking out over the
The soil is thin, the yield running low
There's too many of us here, too of us here
And now ribbons of rain sweep in
As the birds fly for winter
And we all come down to the shore and stare across the
We've got to get off the