Quay lại trang chủ | Luyện nghe Bài Hát

 The rusted chains of  moons
 Are shattered  the sun.
 I walk a road,  change
 The tournament's begun.
 The purple  plays his tune,
  choir softly sing;
 Three lullabies  an ancient tongue,
 For the court of the crimson 
 
 The keeper of the city 
 Put shutters on the 
  wait outside the pilgrim's door
 With insufficient schemes.
 The  queen chants
 the funeral march,
 The cracked brass  will ring;
  summon back the fire witch
 To  court of the crimson king.
 
 The gardener  an evergreen
 Whilst trampling on a 
  chase the wind of a prism ship
 To taste the  and sour.
 The pattern  lifts his hand;
 The orchestra begin.
 As slowly turns the grinding 
 In the court of the crimson 
 
 On soft grey mornings widows 
 The wise men  a joke;
 I  to grasp divining signs
  satisfy the hoax.
 The yellow jester does  play
 But  pulls the strings
  smiles as the puppets dance
 In the  of the crimson king