Luyện nghe bài hát Reality Whitewash

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