Luyện nghe bài hát Nineteen Eighty Bore

Who needs when we've got the ITV
Who needs ECT when there's old BBC?
Switch on the set, up the screen
Fantasise and dream about you might have been
Who needs controlling when they've got the ray
They've got your fucking soul, now fuse your brains away
Mindless morons sit before the set
fed the mindless rubbish they deserve to get
Can't switch off big brother, lost all will to act
Lost in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it
Another plastic bullet stuns Irish child
But no-one's really bothered, no, the telly them mild
They've lost all sense of feeling to the every glow
Drained of any by the vicious telly blow
No longer know what's real or ain't, going blind
They stare the goggle box while the world goes by, behind
The Angels are on T.V. tonight, puke fucking shit
army occupy Ireland, but the boot will never fit
Was it Coronation Or was it Londonderry?
Oh it doesn't fucking matter, Paul 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 didn't do him no
And the Holocaust terrible, good thing it wasn't for real
Of course I've heard of H-Block, it's the baccy man appeal
Deeper and deeper and deeper, upon layer
Illusion, confusion, is there anyone left who can
Yes, the Abbey National for you
Nat West, and
Well brings out the bren-guns
spice it up some more
The Sweeney are cruising Brixton, created another
And J.R.'s advising on lighting, make up and cast
A thousand lenses point at the people's pain
As millions of mindless watch the action replay again
replay again
Softly, softly, into life, you're held 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 Brother ain't watching you mate, you're watching him