Luyện nghe bài hát Nineteen Eighty Bore

Who needs when we've got the ITV
Who needs ECT there's good old BBC?
on the set, light up the screen
Fantasise and dream about what you have been
Who needs controlling when they've got the ray
got your fucking soul, now they'll fuse your brains away
Mindless morons sit before the set
Being fed the mindless rubbish they to get
Can't switch off big brother, they've all will to act
in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it fact?
Another plastic stuns another Irish child
But no-one's bothered, no, the telly keeps them mild
lost all sense of feeling to the every hungry glow
Drained of any substance by the vicious blow
No know what's real or ain't, slowly going blind
They stare into the box while the world goes by, behind
The are on T.V. tonight, grey puke fucking shit
They army Ireland, but the boot will never fit
Was it Street? Or was it Londonderry?
Oh it doesn't matter, Paul Daniels'll keep us merry
Yes, I've heard of Bobby Sands, it Emmerdale Farm?
Yes, that's right, he was by a cow
I hope it do him no harm
And wasn't the Holocaust terrible, thing it wasn't for real
Of course I've heard of H-Block, it's the with man appeal
Deeper and deeper and deeper, layer upon
Illusion, confusion, is there left who can care?
Yes, the Abbey National for you
Nat West, and
Well out the Branston bren-guns
Let's spice it up some
The Sweeney are Brixton, created another Belfast
And J.R.'s advising on lighting, make up and cast
A thousand camera lenses point at the people's
As millions of mindless morons the action replay again
replay again
Softly, softly, into your life, you're in it's brilliant glow
Softly, softly, feeding itself on the you never know
You're life's reduced to nothing, but an media game
Big Brother ain't you mate, you're fucking watching him