Luyện nghe bài hát He Used to Cut The Grass

Frank (lead guitar, vocals)
Warren (rhythm guitar, vocals)
Denny (slide guitar, vocals)
Ike (lead vocals)
Peter (keyboards)
Arthur (bass, vocals)
Ed (percussion)
colaiuta (drums)

Joe: (to as he walks out of prison)
I'm out at
Boy, the
Sure looks
Wow...there's
fun to do
Since made
illegal
But I'm
I got the
I've got to it
I to play
But no
anymore
They're all
Wait! got it!
be sullen and

I'll dwindle off
The realm
Of my own

I'll through
The lot
In a
state
And of
notes
To go the

Announcements.

Joe wanders through the world which by has been totally epoxied over, carefully organized, with everyone reporting daily to his or her appointed place in a line somewhere in front of a wind
Mewhere in a building somewhere in order to his or her welfare check, which, when cashed, made it possible for the young ones to continue the payments for the obsolete and irreparable ap
Ces their parents had purchased on the instalment plan years ago, providing as security the future incomes of their children. the rest of these checks used by the young recipients to buy fu
Ngs of their own on credit, most of which broke or failed within moments of purchase and seemed to be stacking up everywhere.

Central
is the central

The white
Is for and
only.
If you have to or
Unload, go to the
zone.
You'll it.
a way of life.
This is the

The zone
Is for and
only.
If you to load or
Unload, go to the
zone.
You'll it.
a way of life.
This is the

The zone
Is for and
only.
If you have to or
Unload...

As joe stumbles over mounds of dead consumer goods formed into abstract statues dedicated to the quality of american craftsmanship, dreaming his stupid little guitar notes, he hears, i
Back of his head, the voice of mrs. borg, him:

Mrs. borg's
it down!
it down!
I have
here!
Don't you boys
Any nice
I'm the police!
I did it!
be here...
Shortly!
I'm not joking
Anymore!
see now!
There are...
coming!
Listen to mess,
you!
Every day this on
here!
He to
Cut my grass...
He was a
Very boy...
He to
Cut my grass...
He was a
nice boy...
He to
Cut my grass...
He was a
Very boy...
He to
Cut my grass...
He was a
nice boy...

Central
This is the scrutinizer... yes...he used to be a nice boy...he used to cut the grass...but now his mind is totally destroyed by music. he's so crazy now he even believes that people are
Ng articles and reviews about his guitar notes, and so, continuing to dwindle in the twilight realm of his own secret thoughts, he not only dreams imaginary guitar notes, but, to make
Rs worse, imaginary vocal parts to a song about the imaginary journalistic profession...