Luyện nghe bài hát Winds of the Old Days

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

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

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

Breath on an undying
It take much to remember
eloquent songs from the good old days
That set us to marching banners ablaze

But reporters, there's no in prying
Our blue-eyed been denying
The truths that are in a mystery
The are over, so set him free

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

Why do I sit the autumnal
Years of self-righteousness not budge
or savior, it was his to choose
Which of us knows what was his to

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

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

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