Luyện nghe bài hát Motorpsycho Nightmare

I pounded on a
Lookin' for a to stay
I was mighty, tired
I had gone a long, way
I said, "Hey, hey, in
Is anybody home?"
I was on the steps
Feelin' most
Well, out a farmer
He must have thought I was nuts
He looked at me
And a gun into my guts

I fell
To my knees
Saying, "I dig
shoot me, please!"
He cocked his
And to shout
"Are you that salesman
That I have about?"
I said, "No! No! No!
I'm a doctor and true
I'm a kid
And I to college, too"

in comes his daughter
Whose was Rita.
She like she stepped out of
La Dolce
I immediately tried to it
her dad
And told him a
Nice, pretty he had
He said, "What do
about farms, pray tell?"
I said, "I was
At the of a wishing well"

Well, by the dirt 'neath my
I guess he knew I lie
He "I guess you're tired"
He said it sly
I said, "Yes, ten miles
I drove"
He said, "I got a bed for you
Underneath the
Just one
And you go to right now
That you touch my daughter
And in the morning, the cow"

I was like a rat
When I heard something
stood Rita
Lookin' just like Perkins
She said, "Would you like to a shower?
I'll you up to the door"
I said, "Oh, no! no!
I've been through this before"
I I had to split
But I didn't how
she said,
"Would you to take that shower, now?"

Well, I couldn't
the old man chased me out
'Cause I'd already
That I'd his cows
I had to say
To strike him weird
So I
"I like Fidel and his beard"
Rita looked
But she got out of the way
As he came charging down the
Sayin', "What's I heard you say?"

I said, "I like Fidel
I you heard me right"
And I ducked as he
At me with all his
Rita something
her mother on the hill
As his fist had hit the
He said he's going to
Me if I don't get out the
In two seconds
"You
Rotten Commie rat"

Well, he a Reader's Digest
At my and I did run
I did a
As I him get his gun
And through the window
At a hundred miles an
And landed blast
In his garden
said, "Come back!"
And he started to
The sun was up
And I was runnin' the road

Well, I don't figure I'll be
There for a
Even though moved away
And got a job in a
He still for me
Constant, on the sly
He to turn me in
To the F.B.I.
Me, I romp and
as I romp
Without freedom of
I might be in the