Luyện nghe bài hát Ride The Wings Of Pestilence

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

Famine, and pestilential misery
Surely must be a divine damnation
from below
Be it or demon that reaps this
nation
No one of us deserves thus
Oh lord, have we done
Oh God, have you us?
I ride the air
On pestilential
I am the
That slays your and kin
I ride your bed at
An so vile
My work is seen
The of funeral pyres
rats do my work
Punishment
your face, everyone has heard
Here is payment for your
This epoch you won't
You're burning from
In the final of horrid death
The proudest men forget pride
They cry in pain
Praying to be
But your god not to care
Mothers, daughters, fathers,
All are prey
Twitching in bowel runs
I crave a toll
The deadringers sound the
For all of you who
I the field in rage
You scream in fear
When gripped in my
I purify, you putrefy, the end I
For blasphemy, I bring you
disease, a funeral
I take the and steer you into, a
hellish
You in the streets, succumb in
your sheets, disease
And you don't why
Why your die
And you won't why
On of death I ride
Now summer has over
the
Midday is low
The surviving few out
dead
A flow...
I am the death, your black
breath, I am death
I am the reason, that lie
crying, watching 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 tale of and
plague, and woe
Now I subside, die out,
yet I won
But I will return, in to
come, in forms
Philip von
Stockholm, '97