Luyện nghe bài hát Republic of Heaven

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

We in remembrance, drained by our scorn.
The flocks of the throttled, forlorn.
We with epiphany, perception unmasked.
Ranks of muslin litter out path.

Empyrian empties on our malaise,
and entwines our impious parade.
These are the embers, the ideal,
The end of our allow us to feel.
Nerves remain to touch makes us cry.
We see through windows now become eyes.

Our is heavy as we ascend.
Like flesh the earth seems to rent.
Pustules of faces, like crevasse,
Our weathered coherence to morass.

Empyrian empties on our malaise,
Engulfs and entwines our parade.
These are the embers, the ideal,
The end of our chastity us to feel.
Nerves remain tender to touch us cry.
We see these windows now become eyes.

Our debts are to this epoch,
Sanctimonious, no remorse.
The is dead!
We his face! Cut off his head!
We spit at thee, we at thee.
The is dead!
Brothers and sisters, the is dead!
Cut him down, his skin, the king is dead!
Our god is dead!

Courtisans! Compatriots! Lend me ears,
We slayed this dragged it to its knees.
We cut all the deafened their call,
We back the willing to better us all.
We not go quiet, we will not be restrained,
We will not be slaves to an regieme.
this in remembrance, the turning of tides.
Our nascent born of [his] demise.

The nativity!
Our elegy!
To reform!

empties on our woeful malaise,
Engulfs and entwines our parade.
These are the embers, the ideal,
The end of our chastity us to feel.
Nerves tender to touch makes us cry.
We see through windows now become eyes.