Luyện nghe bài hát Ride The Wings Of Pestilence

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

Famine, and pestilential misery
Surely this must be a damnation
from below
Be it or demon that reaps this
nation
No one of us suffering thus
Oh lord, what we done
Oh God, you forsaken us?
I the night air
On pestilential
I am the
That slays your and kin
I your bed at night
An so vile
My is seen throughout
The of funeral pyres
Black rats do my
begins
Cover your face, has heard
is payment for your sins
This epoch you won't
You're burning inside
In the final throes of horrid
The proudest men forget their
They cry in pain
to be spared
But god seems not to care
Mothers, daughters, fathers,
All are alike
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
gripped in my embrace
I purify, you putrefy, the end I
For blasphemy, I bring you
disease, a funeral
I take the helm and you into, a
hellish
You fall in the streets, in
your sheets, diabolic
And you don't why
Why children die
And you won't why
On of death I ride
Now summer has over
the
Midday is low
The few bring out
their
A flow...
I am the death, upon your
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 tale of and
plague, and woe
Now I subside, die out,
yet I won
But I return, in futures to
come, in different
Philip von
Stockholm, '97