Luyện nghe bài hát November

No
No
No
No

It believes
In a pile of dead
And a
That's the color of

No prayers for
To linger
Stick your spoon in the
slaughter them all

November has me
To an old dead
Get word to
To me

cold chain
Made of wet and rain
And shiny black
On chimney smoke
seems odd
You're my firing

With my hair back
With shellac
With the blood a pheasant
And the from a hare

Tied to the
Of a roebuck
Left to wave in the
Like a buck shot

Go away you
Go away, blow your out