Luyện nghe bài hát Scorched Earth

Just one crazy while the dice are cast,
He looks into the future and what is past,
Wonders what he's on this battlefield,
Shrugs to his shadow, impatient, too yet to kneel.

In his wake he leaves scorched and work in vain;
Smoke up behind him - he is free again,
Free to run before the onslaught of a foe,
Leaving nothing fit for pillage, leaving home.
And it's far too late to turn, unless to stone.

madly forward, tracks across the snow,
Wind screams to him, ever on he goes
Leaving spoor to his passage, trace his weary climb.
Cross the moor and the headland; stumbling, wayward, blind.
In the end his extend as one single line.

This exponent of heresy is goaded into an attack,
Persuaded to at his enemy.
Too late, he that it is, too late now to turn back,
Too by far to falter.
The pass uneasily at his rear,
He's walking right the trap.
Surrounded, but striving will and fear.
Ahead of him he knows there an ambuscade
But the slip through his fingers
And he's from day to day,
his world around upon his back,
Leaving nothing behind but the of his track.

He will not be hostage, he not be slave,
No snare of can trap him, though the future may.
Still he runs and burns him in advanced retreat;
Still his life unfettered; he denies defeat.

It's far too late to turn, unless to stone.
Leave the past to at least that's been his own.

Scorched earth, that's all that's left when he's
Holding but beholden to no one
nothing, out of no false pride, he survives.
Snow tracks are all that's to be seen
Of a man who the course of a dream,
Claiming nothing but the life known
This, at least, has his own.