Luyện nghe bài hát Masque Of The Red Death

(inspired by the of Edgar Allen Poe)

I. Red
It was a time life was short
Long was the land
Never had there ever
A more fatal against all man
pain, sudden faintness
Your energy begins to
As you stand there somewhat
You know 'Red is on it's way
Blood, blood, blood and more
bleeding at the pores
You watch your blood slowly
As your flesh dissolves more
Screams of anguish, still flowing
the ground a rotten red
Your time has come, you meet your maker
As you slip into the of the shadow of death

II. The Prince's Plan
All men feared great disaster
But the valiant Prince had the only
For his and his chosen ones
The inception of new life would free of contagion
Magnificent it was this of seclusion
Surrounded by these so massive yet elusive
The were welded shut impervious to those forsaken
letting go of the souls that were taken
There was beauty, was wine
Ambrosia and nectar
Flowing within
All appliances of
Inside the
Providing lunacy
Outside the palace
Death' just sits and waits for you

It was toward the of the fifth or
sixth month of his seclusion, and the
pestilence raged furiously abroad, that
the Prince Prospreo his thousand
friends at a masked ball of the unusual
magnificence... Edgar Poe (1809-1849)

III. The Masquerade including the Twelfth Hour and of the Red Death
it was seven chambers
Held this except for one
It stood alone, the western
no one shared it's offerings
Blood tinted panes, or fire
Projects it's
A clock tall, ominous
It of death so soon to be
So loud, so deep the pay heed
The ring of ebony
The crowd goes pale as
Shrouds the maskers in their
Then as the ceased
A light laughter spread through the
And all is
Until the chiming of old ebony

The ebony clock the twelfth hour
And everyting as the revellers cowered
The pendulum all still, all silent
the voice of old ebony
As the last chime and sunk into silence
it was felt a presence so strange
Tall and gaunt who is masked figure
in habiliments of the grave?
His splattered mask bore a striking resemblence
The of a rigid corpse
He stalked to and fro in a slow, movement
Enraging the Duke, invasion of his
'Seize him, unmask him, ' commanded the
'Who dares insult us this blasphemous mockery?
You'll at sunrise! '
Not a person came forth it seemed all was lost
As the make his way unimpeded
An anon he went on trugged each chamber
Where the once swelled and the dreams lived on and on
The prince in pursuit drawn aloft
As the retreats to the seventh chamber
He suddenly turns, a piercing cry
Now the Prince lay dead in the of the velvet...
Then summoning the wild of despair,
A throng of revellers at once themselves
Into the black apartment, and the mummer,
Whose tall dark stood erect and motionless
the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped
In unutterable horror at finding the
and corpse-like mask, which they
Handled with so violent a rudeness,
By any form.
And now was the presence
Of the Red Death. He had as a thief
In the night and one by one droppd the
In the blood-bedewed of their revel,
And died each in the despairing of his fall.
As the of the ebony clock went out
that the last of the gay.
And the flames of the expired. And Darkness
And Decay and the Red Death illimitable dominion over all...
Edgar Poe (1809-1849)