Luyện nghe bài hát Masque Of The Red Death

(inspired by the work of Allen Poe)

I. Red
It was a when life was short
Long was the land
had there ever been
A more fatal plague all man
Pungent pain, faintness
Your energy begins to
As you stand there somewhat
You 'Red Death' is on it's way
Blood, blood, blood and blood
Profuse at the pores
You watch your slowly sizzle
As your flesh some more
of anguish, blood still flowing
Pollutes the ground a red
Your time has come, you must meet maker
As you into the valley of the shadow of death

II. The Prince's Plan
All men feared this great
But the Prince had the only answer
For his and his chosen ones
The of new life would free them of contagion
it was this structure of seclusion
Surrounded by these walls so yet elusive
The gates were welded shut impervious to those
Never letting go of the that were taken
There was beauty, there was
Ambrosia and sweet
from within
All appliances of
the Master-Plan
Providing noble
Outside the palace
Death' just sits and waits for you

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

III. The Masquerade including the Hour and Return of the Red Death
Bizzare it was chambers
Held this jubilee for one
It stood alone, the western
Where no one shared offerings
Blood panes, brazier or fire
Projects it's
A clock stands tall,
It warns of death so to be
So loud, so deep the pay heed
The ring of ebony
The crowd pale as darkness
Shrouds the maskers in their
as the echos ceased
A laughter spread through the assembly
And all is
Until the next chiming of old

The ebony clock struck the twelfth
And everyting ceased as the cowered
The swings all still, all silent
Save the voice of old
As the last chime died and sunk into
it was felt a presence so strange
Tall and gaunt who is this figure
in habiliments of the grave?
His splattered 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
him, unmask him, ' commanded the prince
'Who insult us with this blasphemous mockery?
hang at sunrise! '
Not a person came forth it seemed all was lost
As the make his way unimpeded
An anon he went on through each chamber
Where the music once and the dreams lived on and on
The prince in pursuit drawn aloft
As the figure to the seventh chamber
He suddenly turns, a sharp cry
Now the Prince lay dead in the of the velvet...
Then summoning the courage of despair,
A throng of revellers at threw themselves
Into the black apartment, and the mummer,
Whose tall dark figure stood and motionless
Within the shadow of the ebony clock,
In unutterable horror at the grave
and corpse-like mask, which they
Handled with so a rudeness, untenated
By any form.
And now was acknowlegded the
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 posture of his fall.
As the life of the clock went out
With that the of the gay.
And the flames of the tripods expired. And
And Decay and the Red Death held illimitable over all...
Allen Poe (1809-1849)