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 what you might have been
Who needs controlling they've got the cathode ray
got your fucking soul, now they'll fuse your brains away
Mindless fucking sit before the set
Being fed the rubbish they deserve to get
Can't switch off big brother, they've lost all to act
in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it fact?
Another plastic bullet stuns Irish child
But no-one's bothered, no, the telly keeps them mild
They've lost all sense of feeling to the every hungry
Drained of any substance by the vicious telly
No know what's real or ain't, slowly going blind
stare into the goggle 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 Coronation Or was it Londonderry?
Oh it doesn't fucking matter, Paul Daniels'll keep us
Yes, I've heard of Bobby Sands, it Emmerdale Farm?
Yes, right, he was kicked by a cow
I it didn't do him no harm
And wasn't the terrible, good thing it wasn't for real
Of course I've heard of H-Block, it's the baccy man appeal
and deeper and deeper, layer upon layer
Illusion, confusion, is there anyone who can care?
Yes, the Abbey cares for you
Nat West, and
brings out the Branston bren-guns
Let's spice it up more
The Sweeney are Brixton, created another Belfast
And J.R.'s advising Thatcher on lighting, make up and
A camera lenses point at the people's pain
As millions of mindless morons watch the 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 reduced to nothing, but an empty media game
Big Brother ain't you mate, you're fucking watching him