Luyện nghe bài hát Ride The Wings Of Pestilence

Prologue: By the of 1350
It the land in an uncontrolled

Famine, cold and pestilential
Surely this must be a divine
from below
Be it or demon that reaps this
nation
No one of us deserves suffering
Oh lord, have we done
Oh God, you forsaken us?
I ride the air
On pestilential
I am the
slays your kith and kin
I ride your bed at
An incubus so
My work is throughout
The smoke of pyres
Black rats do my
Punishment
Cover your face, has heard
Here is payment for your
This epoch you forget
burning from inside
In the throes of horrid death
The proudest men forget pride
cry in pain 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 deadringers the bell
For all of you who
I reap the field in
You scream in mindless
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 fall in the streets, in
your sheets, disease
And you know why
Why your die
And you won't why
On winds of I ride
Now summer has come
the
heat is low
The surviving few out
dead
A flow...
I am the death, upon your
breath, I am black
I am the reason, that 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 will return, in to
come, in forms
von Segebaden
Stockholm, '97