Luyện nghe bài hát Ride The Wings Of Pestilence

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

Famine, cold and pestilential
Surely this be a divine damnation
from below
Be it devil or demon that this
cursed
No one of us suffering thus
Oh lord, what we done
Oh God, have you us?
I the night air
On pestilential
I am the
That slays your and kin
I your bed at night
An incubus so
My work is seen
The of funeral pyres
rats do my work
Punishment
Cover face, everyone has heard
Here is for your sins
This epoch you won't
You're burning inside
In the final throes of death
The proudest men their pride
They cry in pain
to be spared
But your god seems not to
Mothers, daughters, fathers,
All are prey
Twitching in rotten runs
I a heavy toll
The deadringers sound the
For all of you who
I the field in rage
You in mindless fear
When gripped in my
I purify, you putrefy, the end I
For your blasphemy, I you
disease, a funeral
I take the helm and you into, a
domain
You fall in the streets, in
your sheets, diabolic
And you don't why
Why children die
And you won't why
On winds of death I
Now summer has over
the
heat is low
The surviving few out
dead
A flow...
I am the death, your black
breath, I am black
I am the reason, that lie
crying, watching their

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