Luyện nghe bài hát Nineteen Eighty Bore

Who needs lobotomy we've got the ITV
Who needs ECT when good old BBC?
Switch on the set, up the screen
Fantasise and dream about what you might have
Who needs controlling when they've got the ray
got your fucking soul, now they'll fuse your brains away
Mindless fucking morons sit the set
Being fed the mindless they deserve to get
switch off big brother, they've lost all will to act
Lost in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it
Another plastic bullet another Irish child
But no-one's really bothered, no, the telly them mild
They've lost all of feeling to the every hungry glow
Drained of any substance by the telly blow
No longer know what's or ain't, slowly going blind
They stare into the goggle box while the goes by, behind
The Angels are on T.V. tonight, grey fucking shit
They army occupy Ireland, but the boot will fit
Was it Street? Or was it Londonderry?
Oh it doesn't fucking matter, Paul Daniels'll keep us
Yes, I've heard of Sands, wasn't it Emmerdale Farm?
Yes, right, he was kicked by a cow
I hope it do him no harm
And wasn't the Holocaust terrible, good thing it wasn't for
Of course I've heard of H-Block, the baccy 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 brings out the Branston
Let's it up some more
The Sweeney are cruising Brixton, created Belfast
And J.R.'s advising Thatcher on lighting, up and cast
A thousand lenses point at the people's pain
As of mindless morons watch the action replay again
Action replay
Softly, softly, into your life, you're in it's brilliant glow
Softly, softly, itself on the you you'll never know
You're life's reduced to nothing, but an empty media
Big ain't watching you mate, you're fucking watching him