Luyện nghe bài hát The Warren of Snares

We can for the scars in our sides,
Yet we are not privy to the thoughts we discard.
Those who break us nurture our despair.
But we cherish those who we revile.
We this battle in our fortitude,
The war of yet to be resolved.

We the font from which we sup,
Bit hard upon the nape of our and drew blood.
Take refuge in our commune, orphans, souls.
Scrawled identities, of our consecration.

Is this our dowry, the of our loss?
Do we inflict our young with the of our past?
We use these imperfections as vestige points.
We so much to gain, so little left to loose.

Lay bare this soil, a ambit,
bound by slick hraka.
Towers of carve out tracks,
Cleaved in two by hands.

The is rife, the harbinger,
It clings to us Efrafa.
Homba, and Yonil,
It rises like vomit us all.

The weakening words out in ares,
The urge to flee, engulfs.
Our hands are in unison.
Brandished tools, skin.

Cut away, like so meat,
We new scars against ill repute,
We hold on to one another.
I am for we are many.