Luyện nghe bài hát The Process

Holy shit! He wrote another fucking song
Why does he keep on writing them when hope has long been
He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the
But let me tell you why bearded fuck has got to sing

Twenty-four/seven, days of the year
In his mind the music plays 'a in his ears
A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the now play themselves
And on the staff, the notes they dance like bearded fucking

It's just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) wreck
It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking

just his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck
It's just his process. Send him a motherfucking

write a fucking song for every dick that's ever lived
Pop, blues, rock, funk, dance, and trancethe man just wants to
Now open up your ears to him, you fucking sod
And blast his from noon till night so loud you'll wake up God

Early in the morn normal folks are getting up
He's pounding keys and riding strings like monster truck
Eighth notes on his and quarters in his tonic
regular like fiber man and shits a philharmonic

Twenty-four/seven, 3-6-5 days of the
In his the music plays 'a blasting in his ears
A-B-C-D-E-F-G, the notes now themselves
And on the staff, the notes dance like bearded fucking elves

Holy fucking shit! He wrote another song
Why does he on writing them when hope has long been gone?
He may not be Gaga, Miley, Jackson, or the
But let me tell you why this bearded fuck has got to

It's his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck
It's just his process. him a motherfucking check

It's his process, how he makes himself/(sense of) this wreck
just his process. Send him a motherfucking check