Luyện nghe bài hát Third Secret

New martyrs swinging in the wind. The dead eyes for messiahs in
the stars. The bodies carrying the of no confession, no concession.
No sympathy. The laughter from the front row loudly now in bars,
over in a basket, in the darkest corners of the Central Station.
Passing round the spirit that drove Rommel to his desert hole,
diamonds, stripped the gold hidden cities in Brazil. And killed the
savage in the of Mary... Burn the witch, whip the bitch who shows her
ankles on the Sabbath. Bring the kids 1 to 63 - the family treat.
Maybe there be a vision of messiahs in the stars. Now all confess and
make a wish. The priest is passing round the dish...our selling
for the tears, for all the years of blessed rape in the name of
our lord.