Luyện nghe bài hát The Torture

Blood despair
an air of paranoia
Where brothers fear other
And kill without
in all directions

Trampling each other, deaths
The grips right at the throat
Diabolical means, proving the
Of weakness

implemented paradigm
Designed in the
Men losing of their minds
Hallucinating distortions

Flesh feeding the machine
Bringing troops to knees
Begging for
That will only come in form of death

Choking on blood, apart
Gutted corpses, the stench
Of powder and rot, the sound
Of endless bombs, the sights

on blood, ripping apart
Gutted corpses, the stench
Of powder and rot, loud the
Of endless bombs, the sights

Not one stands
Researchers
Remains they
By subjecting poor souls
To the