Luyện nghe bài hát Virus Meadow

Rattled chime, ringing echo
Roll around in virus
Suck enchanted nightshade
Hear the bells beneath us
Sinking sermon, priest murmurs
Holy across the meadows
the plagues' black rolling hand
Through his lips the virus
And the rooks, they seemed to him
he goes
Flapping in the sky
in the spire
Hanging from the sky
from the sun
The rooks, they seemed to him
Wherever he
thistle, english sun dew
Swansneck woman, child-bed
Aching shoulders sink and
As the bells ditches toll
And the smeared skin limbs
Of the brothers
Struggling....
Through the empty of morning
Of the brothers...
Of the brothers....

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