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 I may at least have the ghost of a chance to digest
what I mind telling you- is completely inedible slop
lovingly and prepared and served by
the thugs and who are the so-called staff of this institution
finished with the menu,
finished the menu, sir?
finished with the menu,
with the menu, sir?
yes, yes, I shall enjoy cakes, toast, tea, scrambled eggs,
jam...
mind you, I can't complain, before I here I thought
scrambled eggs supposed to be brown and crispy at the bottom
and dull at the top
my mother, god bless her, cannot boil a kettle
burnin the water inside
When I came here a different story, you know, oh yes,
a different deck of cards...
scrambled eggs with the consistency of a moth swimming about
in a foul yellow I wonder where that came from?
I would like to put my theory, my own inside story, if you will,
you to know what I think?
I that every morning as we sleep
our beloved staff gathers around the scrambled eggs
like some pagan cult homage 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, what do care?
half the bloody time end up throwing it on the floor,
or still, at each other...