Luyện nghe bài hát Marching Song

In a wilderness of thoughts
Battling with your minds
And walking on empty
Where so calm even drowning rains

Soldier on to this marching
Head held with eyes fixed strong
Dropping thud, cymbal down
The mud, it is thick with to drown

feet's in earth, your boots are sinking
Sink with the memories of lost thinking
And armies of many are fighting their
Lost in the blackness, they're losing their

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

Arms and legs, teeth and
Our fragile companions are to fail
For battalion has been run through
Therefore, captains and comrades, I bid you all