Luyện nghe bài hát The Breakfast Conspiracy

gonna tell you a story; some kind of a breakfast
breakfast in bed,
in bed, sir?
ah, no thanks, not
in fact, I'd far rather be sitting in a upright position
so that I may at have the ghost of a chance to digest
what I don't mind telling is completely inedible slop
lovingly and habitually prepared and by
the thugs and vagabonds who are the so-called staff of institution
finished the menu, sir?
with the menu, sir?
finished the menu, sir?
with the menu, sir?
yes, yes, I shall soft cakes, toast, tea, scrambled eggs,
jam...
mind you, I can't complain, before I came I thought
scrambled were supposed to be brown and crispy at the bottom
and yellow at the top
my mother, god bless her, cannot boil a kettle
without the water inside
I came here it's a different story, you know, oh yes,
a different deck of cards...
scrambled eggs arrive the consistency of a moth swimming about
in a foul yellow I wonder where that came from?
I like to put forth my theory, my own inside story, if you will,
you wanted to know I think?
I that every morning as we sleep
our beloved kitchen staff gathers the scrambled eggs
like some pagan cult offering homage to a false
first, the head chef, the cult leader, stands on an
chair, opens the fly of his
institutional trousers, out his
institutional willy, and in our breakfast.
HA HA HA!
they're just a of loonies, what do they care?
half the bloody they end up throwing it on the floor,
or still, at each other...