Luyện nghe bài hát Seven Trumpets

The whirlwind howls my
My soars across the planes
The blood the stone
Dried ago

And the gods are
No one left to bow
Our race has lost way
lye in decay
Belial in his
the trumpets blare

And the are sleeping
No one left to hear our

The ancient are waiting for the call
the seven trumpets of Altamont
The seas will churn the dead shall again
The serpent shall be loosed the all run red