Luyện nghe bài hát Science Fiction

Little green men coming out of cans,
mines and Slaked Lime, 1966, he was sixteen,
it's Central in the era of the dragline,
play it the pit and dig up more of that green shit,
and trade it with the Russians, who are hated,
you can imagine that after a few
that run out of things to say,
and be here every day.
Phospho~Gypsum, Radon-222,
the watch over you,
on a transformer four stories high it walks like a
and on its base,
diggin' up Dicalcium Phosphate.
the blacktop
and you have far to go to find an alien civilization,
a creature from a creation that's from space.
Sixty foot high for around;
one tons of Phospho~Gypsum tailings rise to the sky.
Nearly half the world's fertilizer once lay beneath the
it got taken off sandbar,
and now something that's left behind.
Hey, place is a mess!
are you takin' about?
I'll it up later.
No, that's not the way it is at all, I'm not a I don't care,
man, that's of the system, I'm punk,
but who's gonna the Wall Street Journal, just me and Bob Ray,
it's just part of the system here on the surface of the
and the day has come when there's work left
There's unlimited in a bottle of Tropicana,
with his friends and his Tooth' 8-track flipped upside down,
drivin' in his Mercury down to Lithia Springs,
saying that if we could the tailings,
and a building for the New York Stork Exchange,
then we could tell everyone
how we live in a state that digs by the ton
and be loved by everyone,
and the government give us a Superfund,
and 'we're Radon, and that's Fiction.