Luyện nghe bài hát Scorched Earth

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

In his wake he leaves scorched earth and work in
Smoke drifts up behind him - he is again,
Free to run before the onslaught of a foe,
Leaving fit for pillage, hardly leaving home.
And far too late to turn, unless it's to stone.

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

This latest exponent of heresy is goaded an attack,
Persuaded to at his enemy.
Too late, he knows it is, too late now to turn back,
Too by far to falter.
The pass uneasily at his rear,
He's walking into the trap.
Surrounded, but through will and fear.
Ahead of him he knows there waits an
But the dice slip his fingers
And he's living day to day,
Carrying his 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.
he runs and burns behind him in advanced retreat;
Still his life remains unfettered; he defeat.

far too late to turn, unless it's to stone.
Leave the past to burn; at least that's his own.

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