Luyện nghe bài hát Killing

It was summer when they finally came, the law of
and line upon line of machine upon machine, back the greenwood,
closer to the heart of things we go - beneath the wires against the sky,
spitting out in desperation - stop the . . .
The wind blows from St George's Hill through to Stanworth Woods,
and to the East, on this grey and pallid dawn the lights the rigs
blinking out across the poisoned sea, a little group of ships floating out to meet the storm
sailing on in desperation - the killing . . .
Raised and bound upon the land, and the whispers in diamond
through the trees, in the of Eden . . .
Innocent still the faith we hold - our time come . . .
That which the corridors of power is a virus that mutates;
immune to all resistance, and every turn of . . .
And all that's left for us is marking upon doors,
and scrawling in the golden before each tide comes rolling in;
screaming out in desperation - stop the . . .
Holding on, and out, . . .