Luyện nghe bài hát Withered

Withered be the
Long past prime and bloom
on the stony bed
This silent hillside

For be the grip
Of this wooded
A crude cold
Hides the hand

The tears once warmed the
Torn out of eyes that cry no more
for the wind to take
Ohh, doth pity the poor

A life of misery and
a chance a twist of fate
The poison the goblet ran
Down the throat of her man

be the flower
Long past prime and bloom
on the stony bed
This hillside tomb

For coppered be the
Of this wooded
A crude gauntlet
the bony hand