Luyện nghe bài hát Marching Song

In a of foggy thoughts
Battling your minds retorts
And on empty plains
Where so calm even drowning rains

Soldier on to this song
held high with eyes fixed strong
Dropping thud, cymbal crash
The mud, it is thick with desires to

Your feet's in earth, boots are sinking
with the memories of long lost thinking
And armies of many are fighting fights
Lost in the blackness, losing their sights

veins are my trenches, my gun is my own
The whispers fall heavy delicate moans

and legs, teeth and nail
Our fragile companions are destined to
For battalion has been run through
Therefore, and comrades, I bid you all adieu