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 with epiphany, 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 chastity us to feel.
remain tender to touch makes us cry.
We see through windows now become eyes.

Our burden is as we ascend.
Like blemished flesh the earth to rent.
of faces, mouths like crevasse,
Our weathered coherence 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 remain tender to touch us cry.
We see through these windows now 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, flay his skin, the is dead!
Our god is dead!

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

The nativity!
Our elegy!
To reform!

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