Luyện nghe bài hát He Used to Cut The Grass

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

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

I'll dwindle off
The twilight
Of my own

I'll walk
The lot
In a
Catatonic
And of
Guitar
To go the

Announcements.

Joe wanders through the world which by then has been totally epoxied over, carefully organized, with reporting daily to his or her appointed place in a line somewhere in front of a wind
in a building somewhere in order to collect 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 parents had purchased on the instalment plan years ago, providing as security the future incomes of their children. the rest of these checks were used by the young recipients to buy fu
Ngs of their own on credit, most of broke down or failed within moments of purchase and seemed to be stacking up everywhere.

scrutinizer:
This is the

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 white
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 abstract statues dedicated to the quality of american craftsmanship, dreaming his stupid little guitar notes, he hears, somewhere i
Back of his head, the voice of mrs. borg, taunting

Mrs. voice:
it down!
it down!
I children
here!
Don't you know
Any songs?
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 goes on
here!
He to
Cut my grass...
He was a
Very boy...
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...

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