Luyện nghe bài hát Pink Tarantulas

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

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

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

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

When you wake up in the morning the rising sun shines its frosted veil.
We'll always lay dreaming of other people under the poison hail.
You look so disgusting, all and puckered, covered with tarantula 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 is gonna teach us, teach us, teach us,
gonna teach us, us, teach us just how to crawl.

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

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

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