Luyện nghe bài hát Tryst With Mephistopheles

I on the summit's path.
Clumsy, clumsy.
No am I.
I can't even my shoes tied.

I've been in love with Owen since
I heard the of Psalm 21.
between the choirs,
As sang, "Laudate Dominum, Laudate Dominum".

Damn, I wrote it down, but I left it in the pocket of my jeans.
Scrawled across the "I don't know what your devotion means,
I don't know your devotion means."

And up, the summit I can see
The one I as a boy.
The Creator, The Great Noise.
The Great Noise.

Charged and up the ridge.
The are empty, the coffers too.
float in the flood, and so will you, I swear, so will you.

"Your is spent! Your light is spent!" I cried,
As I drove the iron into Owen's eyes.
The sun sped cross the plains like that cinematic where
and nature collide.
When you think, "Everything's be all right,"
Just before the gets a bullet in his side.

off the clifftop,
Listening for the spatter, thirty below.
Down the vultures.
I will not be your anymore.

Now the author has been silenced, how will ever decipher me?
I hope hear these words and are convinced
You never even me.

I draw a bruise on your shoulder,
Scratch my over your tattoos.
The author has removed.