Luyện nghe bài hát Masque Of The Red Death

(inspired by the work of Allen Poe)

I. Red
It was a time when life was
devastated was the land
Never had ever been
A more fatal plague all man
Pungent pain, faintness
Your begins to fade
As you there somewhat daunted
You know 'Red Death' is on way
Blood, blood, blood and blood
Profuse at the pores
You watch your blood sizzle
As your flesh dissolves some
Screams of anguish, still flowing
Pollutes the ground a red
Your has come, you must meet your maker
As you slip into the of the shadow of death

II. The Master Plan
All men feared this disaster
But the valiant Prince had the answer
For his majesty and his ones
The inception of new life would them of contagion
it was this structure of seclusion
Surrounded by these so massive yet elusive
The gates were welded shut impervious to forsaken
Never go of the souls that were taken
There was beauty, there was
Ambrosia and nectar
Flowing from
All appliances of
the Master-Plan
Providing noble
Outside the gates
'Red Death' just and waits for you

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

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

The ebony clock struck the hour
And everyting as the revellers cowered
The pendulum all still, all silent
the voice of old ebony
As the last chime died and into silence
Soon it was felt a so strange
Tall and who is this masked figure
Shrouded in habiliments of the
His blood splattered mask bore a resemblence
The of a rigid corpse
He stalked to and fro in a slow, solemn
Enraging the Duke, of his sanctuary
'Seize him, unmask him, ' commanded the
'Who dares insult us with blasphemous mockery?
hang at sunrise! '
Not a person came forth it seemed all was lost
As the intruder make his way
An anon he on trugged through each chamber
Where the once swelled and the dreams lived on and on
The prince in pursuit dagger drawn
As the retreats to the seventh chamber
He turns, a piercing sharp cry
Now the lay dead in the hall of the velvet...
Then summoning the courage of despair,
A throng of revellers at threw themselves
Into the apartment, and seizing the mummer,
Whose tall figure stood erect and motionless
Within the shadow of the ebony clock,
In horror at finding the grave
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 halls of their revel,
And died in the despairing posture of his fall.
As the life of the clock went out
With the last of the gay.
And the flames of the tripods expired. And
And Decay and the Red Death illimitable dominion over all...
Edgar Poe (1809-1849)