Luyện nghe bài hát Shadows

Memories of haunt me,
From the years I was young,
Things that used to me,
Are the things, I've become

a dark moon in the clouds,
fog in the swamp,
Crickets chirpping my window; the water it thumps,
In the bathroom down the hall,
The flicker sometimes,
The is howling-
The dogs are growling way in the pines,
A passing car on the distant road, The only running
Nightmares in my sleep, The is coming
I see the in the red cloak,
The shadows are shape,
The sound of a faint voice, and full of hate,
Dry leaves under the feet of the Reaper,
The limbs tap on my window, the nails of a creature,
of goblins and fairies,
A on the prairie,
A murderer that escaped, I'm and weary,
Lightning on the hill,
the cabin,
The old man on the porch, and quietly laughing,
by demons,
I'm an angel and they all me,
And to day,

Memories of shadow's me,
the years when I was young,
Things that to terrify me,
Are the things, I've become,

Cigarette butts, and oil on the dying grass,
The smell of the liquor, rising up from the broken
The crowds of black leather, The heat the engines,
Motorcycles and Goons, men and loud women,
The crackling paint, The old with the swinging light,
The Heroin needles passing, in plain sight,
Ozzy and Sabbath, The vinyl is skipping,
the fight in the kitchen,
Blood and kicking,
Smoke fills up the sky, on the trash heap,
The mattress is burning, I hear it and snapping,
The rain soaked teddy bear, so heavy I lift it,
The flask for the moonshine, I as they all sip it,
The Halloween candle lit with a Pentagram,
The Grandfather Clock, with a minute hand,
by thieves, killers,
Thugs and junkies,
And to day,

of shadow's haunt me,
From the when I was young,
Things that to terrify me,
Are the things, That become,

I throw on my jacket, a collection of biker patches,
One of them savage, The other one Black Sabbath,
Heavily tatted, barely any left,
Whiskey after twelve,
I'm always with death,
shells in my yard, Loaded gun on the shelf,
Run the roads a wolf, through the whole Bible Belt,
skin boots, Toes up on the chopper,
Fifty behind me, They all ready to slaughter,
Drunk in of my sons,
in front of my daughter,
Spit, cuss, and I yell,
It's like a quarter,
'Cause I'm heads up. no matter which way you flip it,
No brake lights in my life, I'm either or evicted,
to my convictions,
Committed with the quitters,
Connected to my religion, The of sinners,
Send a to god,
Exhaling smoke off the pipe,
Like puddles reflecting the ripples echo to life,
So here I am standing just the ashes that fell from the fire,
A seed fell off that poisonous and forgotten flower,
my own nightmare,
But now I think charming,
when,

Memories of haunt me,
From the years I was young,
that used to terrify me,
Are the things, I've become