Luyện nghe bài hát Shadows

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

a dark moon in the clouds,
fog in the swamp,
Crickets outside my window; the water it thumps,
In the bathroom sink the hall,
The lights sometimes,
The wind is
The dogs are growling way in the pines,
A passing car on the distant road, The thing running
Nightmares in my sleep, The Sandman is
I see the in the red cloak,
The are taking shape,
The sound of a faint voice, lost and 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 that escaped, I'm disillusioned and weary,
strikes 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, That become,

Cigarette butts, and oil on the dying grass,
The of the liquor, rising up from the broken glass
The crowds of leather, The heat from the engines,
Motorcycles and Goons, men and loud women,
The paint, The old shack with the swinging light,
The Heroin needles passing, in plain sight,
and Black Sabbath, The vinyl is skipping,
From the in the kitchen,
screaming and kicking,
Smoke fills up the sky, on the trash heap,
The mattress is burning, I hear it and snapping,
The rain soaked bear, so heavy I can't lift it,
The flask for the moonshine, I watch as all sip it,
The Halloween pumpkin lit with a Pentagram,
The Clock, with a broken minute hand,
by thieves, killers,
Thugs and junkies,
And to day,

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

I throw on my jacket, a collection of biker patches,
One of them says savage, The other one Sabbath,
tatted, barely any skin left,
Whiskey after twelve,
I'm always with death,
Bullet shells in my yard, gun on the shelf,
Run the roads like a wolf, through the Bible Belt,
Rattlesnake boots, Toes up on the chopper,
Harleys 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 only heads up. no which way you flip it,
No brake in my life, I'm either rich or evicted,
to my convictions,
Committed crimes the quitters,
to my religion, The religion of sinners,
Send a to god,
Exhaling smoke off the pipe,
Like puddles reflecting the echo to next life,
So here I am standing just like the ashes that fell the fire,
A seed that fell off that poisonous and flower,
my own nightmare,
But now I it's charming,
when,

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