Luyện nghe bài hát Woundwort

At the crux of our nation the dies.
out dissension a barrage of cries.
Written in and glanced rebellion,
we gather these ugly wounds, words opposition.
Tilled fields bitter fruit,
like needles furrow and root.
Clasped hands dig nails through skin and wood,
gouge out the of our parenthood.

Those who would summon to these assumptions,
to cut out the of the idiot prince.
The godhead resides within the of coercion,
the virtue of all our children.
The of piety,
the prince.
Pigheaded,
and as sin.

We no longer cower in his penumbra,
the prophetic repugnance out long ago.
the call is heard, the is given,
the descends upon his eminence.
Attempted offerings, he in his woe.
The walls of his rock to an fro.
We come knocking with baited breath,
the scent of the apostate rife repent.

With dismantled the firmament cleansed.
We carve out new and runes in the sand.
of kindred, faces of kind,
the worship of kinship starving minds.
we lay,
we build.
we may falter,
we build.

The onus of shifts in its cradle,
the locks on the brittle, unable.
We splinter the timber, over the general.
The magnate, dethroned and devoured.
Dismember! Scour mantle!
We far too long.
Smelt the chains! Leave unturned!
We far too long.