🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Land Of The Dead - Summoning

 Where  stream went through the wood
 and silent all  stens there stood
 of  trees, moveless, hanging dark
 with mottled shadows on  bark
 
 as faint  deepest sleeper's breath
 an echo  as cold as death
 Long are the paths, of  made
 where  foot's print is ever laid
 
 No moon is  no voice, no sound
 of  heart; a sigh profound
 
 once in each  as each age dies
 alone is heard. Far, far it 
 the Land of Waiting where  Dead sit,
 in their thought's  by no moon lit.
 
 Upon the plain, there rushed forth and 
 Shadows at the dead of night and  in the skies
 
 Far far away  might of day
 And there lay the land of dead of mortal cold