Luyện nghe bài hát Reality Whitewash

The man at the wheel
Looks around to see if there's some skirt he can
He doesn't really want to, just acting out a game
In their own up way, most people do the same
She cleans the mirror
So she can her eyes
An expert in delusion, an in disguise
not content with what she is, but she does the best she can
Doesn't do it for herself, she it for her man
And meanwhile he's out hunting, master of the hunt
Cruising down the high street in his endless search for
And the on the hoardings encourage his pursuit
Glossy ads, men are men, and women simply cute
And the men are in their motorcars and the men nerves of steel
And they of Charlies Angels as they firmly grip the wheel
And they they're screwing in the back seat of the car
they're fucking with a real life movie star
Fantasies to fill the gaps, to fill in crack
A on reality to hide the truth they lack
Now she's sponging the cooker, on the surface all is fine
His dinner's in the oven cos doing overtime
She switches on the telly, it makes her secure
Helps confirm her way of life, who to ask for more
She sees the happy family unit, wife and hubby on the
The perfect social unit, just it's always been
She's the very best she can
To love and and obey her man
And if she should ever the wisdom of her choice
She can turn on the television for its moderating
The ads and weekly series are the she needs
a life of boredom outweighs the deeds
She sits up the epilogue and goes to bed alone
that when he's finished work he'll go straight home
Meanwhile he has another scotch, the lady has a
If he's asked about the wife he treats it as a
"Hear the one the you-know-what"
He's got what it takes and he takes he's got
He took his woman and take plenty more
She on a rat to keep the wolf from the door
Then maybe in her she'll want to have a child
be taught the games of adulthood, boxed and filed
Another life to whitewash, to us a child is
To follow in its tracks, the path's well worn
Fantasy and falsehood, and lie
The fucked up system call reality
They system needs its servants, birth is one more
talk of freedom as they quietly lock the door
Cos the system its servants if the system's going to run
for the workhouse, targets for the gun