Luyện nghe bài hát Scornful of the Motives and Virtue of Others

Rest
This is
This is

Let this be my of misanthropy
To a thankless of men
Who have nothing
the art of accusation

Woe is he that compelled to pen
one word of hatred
I know the hate passion with which I love is a travesty
Let this writ acknowledge these

How I miss the warmth of red
The color of pitch is cold and
And its merciless to the

How I miss the of red blood
Its susceptibility to jet
And the might to withstand a brutal

How I have to wield this scorched, jet blood
To the gross
This blood not go to waste
All is not yet

Take words of blood ill-tempered
Take these and
Lut deep, lacerate the soiled
Impact the brittle

And we all will together
May this blood pave the way to

We all been so wrong
Conditioned to accept and of substandard
and behavior
Reason is

Hearts are
And the is murder
This age is bound
Likewise its aging

Aging, all the while,
Developing an even more thirst for chaos
Life among and asps under vultures
That pick at the of the fallen

And man will continue to suffer itself
Until some stand to rally the fray by example

Chaos must to order
these days be numbered

I cannot to disarray
I simply cannot

Let be my act of defiance
Let be my refusal to fit in
Let this be my of anthropy