Luyện nghe bài hát Scorched Earth

Just one crazy while the dice are cast,
He looks into the and remembers what is past,
Wonders he's doing on this battlefield,
to his shadow, impatient, too proud yet to kneel.

In his wake he leaves scorched and work in vain;
Smoke drifts up behind him - he is again,
Free to run before the onslaught of a foe,
nothing fit for pillage, hardly leaving home.
And it's far too late to turn, unless to stone.

Charging madly forward, across the snow,
Wind screams to him, ever on he goes
spoor to mark his passage, trace his weary climb.
Cross the moor and the headland; stumbling, wayward, blind.
In the end his extend as one single line.

This latest of heresy is goaded into an attack,
Persuaded to at his enemy.
Too late, he knows it is, too late now to turn back,
Too by far to falter.
The pass sits at his rear,
He's walking into the trap.
Surrounded, but through will and fear.
Ahead of him he knows waits an ambuscade
But the slip through his fingers
And living from day to day,
Carrying his world around his back,
Leaving nothing behind but the of his track.

He not be hostage, he will not be slave,
No snare of past can trap him, though the may.
Still he runs and burns behind him in retreat;
Still his remains unfettered; he denies defeat.

It's far too to turn, unless it's to stone.
Leave the past to burn; at that's been his own.

Scorched earth, that's all that's left when done;
nothing but beholden to no one
Claiming nothing, out of no pride, he survives.
Snow tracks are all that's to be seen
Of a man who the course of a dream,
nothing but the life he's known
This, at least, has his own.