Luyện nghe bài hát Ride The Wings Of Pestilence

Prologue: By the winter of
It the land in an uncontrolled

Famine, cold and pestilential
Surely must be a divine damnation
from below
Be it or demon that reaps this
nation
No one of us deserves suffering
Oh lord, what we done
Oh God, have you us?
I ride the air
On wings
I am the
That your kith and kin
I ride your bed at
An incubus so
My is seen throughout
The of funeral pyres
Black do my work
Punishment
your face, everyone has heard
Here is for your sins
This epoch you won't
burning from inside
In the throes of horrid death
The proudest men forget pride
They cry in immense
Praying to be
But your god seems not to
Mothers, daughters, fathers,
All are alike
Twitching in rotten runs
I crave a toll
The sound the bell
For all of you who
I reap the in rage
You in mindless fear
When in my embrace
I purify, you putrefy, the end I
For your blasphemy, I you
disease, a feast
I take the and steer you into, a
hellish
You in the streets, succumb in
your sheets, diabolic
And you don't why
Why your die
And you won't why
On winds of death I
Now has come over
the
heat is low
The surviving few out
their
A flow...
I am the death, your black
breath, I am death
I am the reason, children lie
crying, their parents

And I am formless,
relentless, you
see
And I am evil, I am disaster, I am

By the end of 1352, two
are
A horrible of pestilence and
plague, and woe
Now I subside, die out,
yet I won
But I return, in futures to
come, in forms
von Segebaden
Stockholm, '97