Luyện nghe bài hát The Birth Of The Race

off the sinister heavens I strip the arc of
the cosmic sickle the deicidial harvest
I am the of fortune that grinds your chest
the fruit of the storm and the kingdom to me
the time has come, time, my father

is my fate
to my hand
the silver temples
that is my
to set up new
the castle of clouds
this is my
to get the
and the mountains red

the of moon ploughs his breast
cry, cry all spirits, the old one is

of his blood whirling around
changing their colours, shapes
his purple juices transform into
of lust, Dionysiac tribe

regicide sword, god
of all spirits,
lead troops, lead us to Earth,
feed us with
feed me flesh
teach me

lightnings, thunders...

he is not
he his strength
spears of royal
bullets of royal
lightnings, thunders us
...but be back
...some day