Luyện nghe bài hát Winds of the Old Days

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because are best when they're made of stone
A a nuisance to live with at home
Stars fall, heroes go unsung
And martyrs most die too young

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

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