Luyện nghe bài hát Republic of Heaven

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

We wane in remembrance, by our scorn.
The flocks of the throttled, forlorn.
We gasp epiphany, perception unmasked.
of black muslin litter out path.

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

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

Empyrian on our woeful malaise,
Engulfs and our impious parade.
are the embers, the fetid ideal,
The end of our chastity us to feel.
Nerves tender to touch makes us cry.
We see through these 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, flay his skin, the is dead!
Our god is dead!

Courtisans! Compatriots! Lend me ears,
We this demagogue dragged it to its knees.
We cut all the sycophants 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.
Mark this in remembrance, the of tides.
Our nascent republic born of demise.

The nativity!
Our elegy!
To reform!

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