Luyện nghe bài hát Motorpsycho Nitemare

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

I fell
To my knees,
Saying, "I dig farmers,
Don't me, please!"
He cocked his
And to shout,
"You're 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."

Then in his daughter
name was Rita.
She looked like she out of
La Vita.
I tried to cool 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 bottom of a well."

Well, by the dirt 'neath my
I he knew I wouldn't lie.
"I guess tired,"
He said, sly.
I said, "Yes, ten miles
I drove."
He said, "I got a bed for you
the stove.
Just one
And you go to sleep now,
That you touch my daughter
And in the morning, the cow."

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

Well, I leave
the old man chased me out,
'Cause I'd already
I'd milk his cows.
I had to say
To strike him weird,
So I out,
"I like Castro and his beard."
Rita offended
But she got out of the way,
As he came down the stairs
Sayin', "What's I heard you say?"

I said, "I Fidel Castro,
I you heard me right,"
And as he swung
At me all his might.
Rita mumbled
her mother on the hill,
As his hit the icebox,
He he's going to kill me
If I don't get out the
In two flat,
"You unpatriotic,
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 miles an hour,
And landed fully
In his flowers.
said, "Come back!"
As he started to
The sun was up
And I was runnin' the road.

Well, I don't I'll be back
for a spell,
Even though Rita moved
And got a job in a motel.
He still for me,
Constant, on the sly.
He to turn me in
To the F.B.I.
Me, I and stomp,
as I romp,
Without of speech,
I be in the swamp.