Luyện nghe bài hát Temple of the Fallen Man

Uncle Bob lives out on highway,
been stealing from his barn so long.
He don't much, he just plays his fiddle,
mumbles at the winter fog.
ago he was the panacea,
countless bowed at his command.
They carved his name above the doorway
in the of the Fallen Man.

Science conjures up it's hour;
they mix the seeds of that crawls.
Something stumbles on the horizon,
nature trembles time it calls.
They wear the coats of the modern mystics.
They grasp for in a monkey's hand,
and Darwin rolls dice in the hallways
in the of the Fallen Man.

Now academics preach the death of
by courtyard fountains where the flow.
The songs are sung by shallow schoolgirls
from the waste of the radio.
whores dance the Macarena
outside iron where eunuchs stand.
take and keep the names of non believers
in the Temple of the Man.

Now all the wise men the corpse of freedom
down through catacombs to crypts.
They to tyranny: his mask of kindness,
his faceless bureaucrats with whips.
The humanist decry the loss of
from towers that they built on sand.
They pray to chaos and drug their children
in the of the Fallen Man.

Some light torches to its gardens.
Some lay siege to the devil's land,
but some leave God the choice of or pardons
in the Temple of the Man.