Luyện nghe bài hát Woundwort

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

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

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

With dismantled the firmament cleansed.
We carve out new effigies and 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 the timber, stand over the general.
The jabbering magnate, and devoured.
Dismember! this mantle!
We far too long.
Smelt the chains! nothing unturned!
We far too long.