Luyện nghe bài hát Reality Whitewash

The grey man at the
Looks around to see if there's some he can steal
He doesn't want to, he's just acting out a game
In their own fucked up way, most do the same
She the bathroom mirror
So she can line her
An in delusion, an artist 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, this of the hunt
Cruising down the high street in his endless search for
And the posters on the hoardings encourage his
Glossy ads, where men are men, and women cute
And the men are in their motorcars and the men have of steel
And they dreams of Charlies as they firmly grip the wheel
And they fantasise they're screwing in the back of the car
Fantasise they're fucking with a real movie star
Fantasies to fill the gaps, to in every crack
A whitewash on to hide the truth they lack
Now sponging down the cooker, on the surface all is fine
His dinner's in the cos he's doing overtime
She on the telly, it makes her feel secure
Helps confirm her way of life, who to ask for more
She sees the happy family unit, wife and on the screen
The perfect social unit, just like always been
She's done the best she can
To love and honour and her man
And if she ever doubt the wisdom of her choice
She can turn on the television for its voice
The ads and weekly series are the proof she
That a life of outweighs the deeds
She sits up till the epilogue and goes to bed
Content that when finished work he'll go straight home
Meanwhile he has scotch, the lady has a coke
If he's asked about the wife he it as a joke
"Hear the one the you-know-what"
He's got what it takes and he takes he's got
He took his woman and he'll plenty more
She took on a rat to the wolf from the door
Then maybe in her loneliness she'll want to a child
Who'll be the games of adulthood, boxed and filed
Another to whitewash, to us a child is born
To follow in its tracks, the path's well worn
and falsehood, truth and lie
The fucked up they call reality
They system needs its servants, birth is one more
Gently talk of freedom as they quietly lock the
Cos the system needs its servants if the system's to run
for the workhouse, targets for the gun