Luyện nghe bài hát The Breakfast Conspiracy

gonna tell you a story; kind of a breakfast conspiracy
breakfast in bed,
in bed, sir?
ah, no thanks, not
in fact, I'd far rather be sitting in a distinctly upright
so that I may at least have the of a chance to digest
what I don't mind telling you- is completely inedible
lovingly and prepared and served by
the and vagabonds who are the so-called staff of this institution
finished the menu, sir?
with the menu, sir?
finished the menu, sir?
finished the menu, sir?
yes, yes, I enjoy soft cakes, toast, tea, scrambled eggs,
jam...
mind you, I complain, before I came here I thought
scrambled eggs were supposed to be and crispy at the bottom
and dull at the top
my mother, god bless her, cannot a fuckin kettle
burnin the water inside
When I came here a different story, you know, oh yes,
a whole deck of cards...
scrambled eggs arrive with the consistency of a moth about
in a foul yellow liquid- I where that came from?
I like to put forth my theory, my own inside story, if you will,
you wanted to know what I
I that every morning as we sleep
our beloved kitchen staff around the scrambled eggs
like some pagan cult offering homage to a false
first, the head chef, the cult leader, ritualistically on an
chair, opens the fly of his
institutional trousers, out his
willy, and urinates in our breakfast.
HA HA HA!
they're just a bunch of loonies, do they care?
half the bloody they end up throwing it on the floor,
or still, at each other...