Luyện nghe bài hát Winds of the Old Days

The lady's in a foreign land
Singing on both humble and grand
A decade past her and there on the page
She read that the had returned to the stage

Hovering near water
A saw her drifting and caught her
fantasies flying too far
Memories tumbling sweets from a jar

And me down to the harbor now
Grapes of the summer are low on the
Ghosts of my history will me there
And the winds of the old will blow through my hair

on an undying ember
It doesn't take to remember
Those eloquent songs from the good old
That set us to marching with ablaze

But reporters, there's no sense in
Our blue-eyed son's denying
The that are wrapped in a mystery
The are over, so set him free

And take me to the harbor now
of the summer are low on the bough
Ghosts of my history will follow me
And the winds of the old days will through my hair

Why do I sit the judge?
Years of self-righteousness will not
or savior, it was his to choose
Which of us knows was his to lose?

idols are best when they're made of stone
A savior's a nuisance to live with at
Stars fall, heroes go unsung
And martyrs most certainly die too

So thank you for writing the songs
you for righting a few wrongs
You're a gift on a wayward bus
But you stepped down and you to us

And get you down to the now
Most of the sour are gone from the bough
Ghosts of Johanna will visit you
And the of the old days will blow through your hair