Luyện nghe bài hát The Breakfast Conspiracy

gonna tell you a story; some kind of a breakfast
in bed, sir?
breakfast in bed,
ah, no thanks, not
in fact, I'd far be sitting in a distinctly upright position
so that I may at least have the of a chance to digest
what I don't telling you- is completely inedible slop
lovingly and prepared and served by
the thugs and vagabonds who are the staff of this institution
finished with the menu,
with the menu, sir?
finished with the menu,
finished 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 eggs were to be brown and crispy at the bottom
and yellow at the top
my mother, god bless her, boil a fuckin kettle
without burnin the water
When I came here a different story, you know, oh yes,
a whole different of cards...
scrambled eggs with the consistency of a moth swimming about
in a foul yellow liquid- I wonder where came from?
I would like to put forth my theory, my own story, if you will,
you wanted to know I think?
I that every morning as we sleep
our kitchen staff gathers around the scrambled eggs
like some pagan cult offering to a false icon
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 bunch of loonies, do they care?
half the bloody time end up throwing it on the floor,
or worse still, at other...