Luyện nghe bài hát Lion

Toward the
Scattered
Long brown
Swirl of trodden
The spring
with
Merges
the forgotten

Flowers. Fawn, mere
On a horizon
We want that
On our
The best of the set we think we've

As if we
That we rise
To a Master's
A sublime
When the tattooist in
And starts his
We and cry "foul"

forn, shadows, mere
On a puppet
We want that
On our
The best of the set we think we've

Save only the lion's
The pain of imprint not what we
The lion safe from claws
Is not what we've

Towards that
Of brush
and proud

Swirl of
of trust
The garden
That trodden

Flower, shadows mere
On a puppet
We want lion traced on our skin
The best of set we think gotten