Luyện nghe bài hát Masque Of The Red Death

(inspired by the of Edgar Allen Poe)

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

II. The Prince's Master
All men this great disaster
But the valiant Prince had the answer
For his majesty and his ones
The inception of new life free them of contagion
it was this structure of seclusion
Surrounded by walls so massive yet elusive
The gates were welded shut impervious to forsaken
Never letting go of the souls that were
There was beauty, there was
Ambrosia and nectar
Flowing from
All of pleasure
the Master-Plan
Providing lunacy
the palace gates
'Red Death' sits and waits for you

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

III. The Masquerade including the Twelfth Hour and of the Red Death
Bizzare it was seven
Held jubilee except for one
It stood alone, the western
Where no one it's offerings
Blood tinted panes, or fire
Projects it's
A clock stands tall,
It warns of so soon to be
So loud, so the guests pay heed
The dissonant of ebony
The goes pale as darkness
Shrouds the maskers in their
as the echos ceased
A light laughter spread through the
And all is
Until the next of old ebony

The clock struck the twelfth hour
And ceased as the revellers cowered
The pendulum swings all still, all
Save the voice of old
As the last died and sunk into silence
Soon it was felt a presence so
and gaunt who is this masked figure
Shrouded in habiliments of the
His blood mask bore a striking resemblence
The countenance of a corpse
He stalked to and fro in a slow, movement
Enraging the Duke, of his sanctuary
'Seize him, unmask him, ' commanded the
'Who insult us with this blasphemous mockery?
You'll at sunrise! '
Not a person forth it seemed like all was lost
As the make his way unimpeded
An he went on trugged through each chamber
Where the music once swelled and the dreams on and on
The prince in pursuit drawn aloft
As the figure retreats to the seventh
He turns, a piercing sharp cry
Now the Prince lay dead in the of the velvet...
summoning the wild courage of despair,
A throng of revellers at once themselves
Into the apartment, and seizing the mummer,
Whose tall dark figure stood and motionless
Within the shadow of the ebony clock,
In unutterable horror at finding the
Cerements and corpse-like mask, which
with so violent a rudeness, untenated
By any form.
And now was the presence
Of the Red Death. He had come as a
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 ebony clock out
With the last of the gay.
And the flames of the expired. And Darkness
And Decay and the Red Death held illimitable over all...
Allen Poe (1809-1849)