Luyện nghe bài hát Basic Cable

television, all hail pixelated god of
fantasy, murder and perspective
fuck a sore channel changed
I sit with a nasty network plan
with a stable diet of my pirate
yo, the doctor is in, the is on
born the bastard son of static cloned to welcome in every home
a blue screen, bruised dream canope
victim of the cursed Technicolor drunk support team
ooh, I all advertisements
though accused by robot news casters who and pollute
spoon fed hazardous fog to joy luck catholic
please take me, please calm me, make me a zombie
please I want to donate my brain to the Panasonic profit
now, twenty century plagued
dispersed to wide glamour addict patients
telecast
blue be the propaganda banners, well, sure I'll be a
with a clean sword and blue uniform, it only takes a and a dream
and I great idiot box power supply, fuzz vapor,
out of New York, hey honey, get the generator
I'm in a doom, generation, pacin', ancient electric secret
never to miss the AM oasis
my name is a wired heart, sloppy
turn my stilt my guilt and have a chatter box blame frame adjacent station
make reality scrambled and suck the out of a hidden vandal
and loving minute of the gimmick, change the channel

it in, turn it on, prop me up against the couch
lights out, I ain't ever gonna to leave my house
dish, get up on my wish list, turn me to a tyrant
let my clean dissolve through the appliance

plug it in, turn it on, be my mother when she's gone,
wipe the spittle off my chinny-chin the breaks
if I gotta go blind I'mma do it for the love of all television
and that's fine, and fine...

make me a star, I wanna gold
hold me suspended in a dream, mearly inches the screen
passions sacrificed to one electron monster
crucify my little future to the
damn it good, turn on, tune in
zoom in to hug the bug up in your function
but the children seem to it
yes mother, me and wild
and heard the static to where I sleep
by the glow of that magic box big
stereo mastered often kill the seekers, eyes spiraling
tangled in the spangled wiring
I can turn toxicated visuals
and all the kings horses abort the loyalty to
fuck the
riddle me with glee, hoist the end all above my sleeping head
I'll be dead by anyway
my values with mundane humor in thirty minute tickets
to the magnetic seal picket censorship
I want twenty four-seven
I wanna shop my bed and set an
example for all my overworked, underpaid
I with a sick string of correspondent
and lurking circus
with allegiance pledged the glass surface
adamant students within the fine school of graduate catalysts
channel zero addict,
it goes- big screen, little screen, any do
just let me the controller and I won't have to murder you

plug it in, turn it on, let my little eyes
twenty screens lined up the borders of the maze
I see the five day forecast, fourteen days in advance
so I can get my two weeks notice every time the sun

plug it in, it on, silent fix better than nothing
let a once divine soul feel the functions of the
the viciousness, ridiculous, peaking a interest
the power button meet your maker, ain't that something?

plug it in, it on, say goodbye to Sunday afternoon
fix the antenna, sit back and let disaster
it's a beautiful sight, a most ugly intention
but I it everyday and bathe inside the consequences

plug it in, turn it on, never have you talked back to me
your majesty, I love you, I you
my is sitcom, soaps, news, bad dramatization
come along me, my friend for the most glorious sensation