Luyện nghe bài hát Pink Tarantulas

We are the cock-eyed children left to in tarantula glue.
We are the shock-eyed left to suckle straw in the soap opera zoo.
We are the pumping out children strangled by static from the noisy sun.
So won't you tell us what's brewing in trenches?
Let us see what you've got under the web.
Come on, come on, what's in those stretch marks?
Tell us, us, taxman, what you meant when you said...

Sleep, eat, own, fuck,
Abandoned like a out conversation.
Phone, TV, sweets, suck,
I pledge allegiance to the talk nation.
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked,
Gaping like a cracked open
Counted, measured, copied, faxed,
tarantula teeth in our pina coladas.

What's cooking in your (come on taxman)
The clang of cash register fangs
cooking our sun? (come on taxman)
The addictive hum of bubble gum
on taxman!
This withered milk tree that you call love like an empty glove..
it! (yeah ) Suck it! (yeah) Own it! (yeah) Fuck it! (yeah)
And we know sewing on another asshole wont make us shit more,
but who can resist a two-for-one at the pink tarantula

tarantula! (Yeah!)
tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!

When you up in the morning the rising sun shines through its frosted veil.
We'll always lay dreaming of other people under the poison hail.
You look so disgusting, all pink and puckered, covered with hair.
You look so I can feel the sight rotting off of my prowling stare.

And we know TV fed us our first footsteps,
but the Ketamine is gonna teach us, teach us, us,
gonna us, teach us, teach us just how to crawl.

We are the cross-eyed children misled to in tarantula webs.
Yeah we are the gawk-eyed children chained to rot in the designer beds.

Sleep, eat, own, fuck,
like a bombed out conversation.
Phone, TV, sweets, suck,
I allegiance to the small talk nation.
Wrapped, packed, soiled, stacked,
like a cracked open piata
Counted, measured, copied, faxed,
Pink tarantula teeth in our coladas

tarantula! (Yeah!)
tarantula! (Oh yeah!)
tarantula!
1, 2, 3, go!