Luyện nghe bài hát Science Fiction

Little men coming out of paint cans,
Phosphate mines and Lime, 1966, he was sixteen,
Central Florida in the era of the dragline,
play it the pit and dig up more of that green shit,
and it with the Russians, who are traditionally hated,
you can that after a few years
that you'd run out of to say,
and I'll be every day.
Phospho~Gypsum, Radon-222,
the daughters watch you,
on a transformer stories high it walks like a cripple
and on its base,
up that Dicalcium Phosphate.
Travel the
and you won't far to go to find an alien civilization,
a creature from a creation from outer space.
Sixty foot high for around;
one million tons of Phospho~Gypsum tailings to the sky.
Nearly half the world's fertilizer lay beneath the overburden;
it got off this sandbar,
and now there's something left behind.
Hey, this is a mess!
'what are you takin'
clean it up later.
No, that's not the way it is at all, I'm not a miner I care,
man, pant of the system, I'm punk,
but who's gonna indict the Wall Journal, just me and Bob Ray,
it's just part of the system on the surface of the planet
and the day has come when there's only work
There's unlimited sunshine in a of Tropicana,
with his friends and his 'Spooky Tooth' 8-track flipped down,
drivin' in his Mercury down to Lithia Springs,
saying that if we could the tailings,
and build a building for the New York Exchange,
then we could everyone about
how we live in a state that Radon by the ton
and be loved by everyone,
and the government give us a Superfund,
and 'we're Radon, and that's Fiction.