Luyện nghe bài hát Virus Meadow

Rattled chime, slow ringing
Roll in virus meadow
Suck nightshade twine
Hear the bells us chime
sermon, priest head murmurs
Holy words across the
the plagues' black rolling hand
Through his the virus sang
And the rooks, seemed to follow him
Wherever he
in the flat sky
Shrieking in the
Hanging from the sky
from the sun
The rooks, they seemed to him
he goes
Nodding thistle, sun dew
Swansneck woman, child-bed
Aching sink and grow
As the bells from toll
And the skin wrapped limbs
Of the night
Struggling....
Through the empty of morning
Of the brothers...
Of the brothers....

If you find major mistakes, or simply wanna chat with
a die-hard Trees-head, just mail me.....
Slow Pulse