Luyện nghe bài hát The Breakfast Conspiracy

gonna tell you a story; some kind of a conspiracy
breakfast in bed,
in bed, sir?
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 mind telling you- is completely slop
lovingly and habitually prepared and by
the and vagabonds who are the so-called staff of this institution
with the menu, sir?
finished with the menu,
finished the menu, sir?
with the menu, sir?
yes, yes, I enjoy 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 her, cannot boil a fuckin kettle
burnin the water inside
When I came here it's a story, you know, oh yes,
a whole deck of cards...
scrambled eggs arrive with the consistency of a moth swimming
in a yellow liquid- I wonder where that came from?
I would to put forth my theory, my own inside story, if you will,
you wanted to know I think?
I think that morning as we sleep
our beloved kitchen gathers around the scrambled eggs
like some pagan cult offering homage to a false
first, the chef, the cult leader, ritualistically 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, what do care?
half the bloody time end up throwing it on the floor,
or worse still, at other...