Luyện nghe bài hát Republic of Heaven

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

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

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

Our is heavy as we ascend.
Like blemished flesh the seems to rent.
of faces, mouths like crevasse,
Our coherence lost to morass.

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 tender to touch makes us cry.
We see through these now become eyes.

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

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

The nativity!
Our elegy!
To reform!

Empyrian on our woeful malaise,
Engulfs and entwines our parade.
are the embers, the fetid ideal,
The end of our allow us to feel.
Nerves remain tender to makes us cry.
We see through these windows now eyes.