Luyện nghe bài hát Basic Cable

television, all hail pixelated god of
fantasy, murder scape and
fuck a sore changed digit
I sit with a nasty network plan
with a stable of my cable pirate
yo, the is in, the doctor is on
born the bastard son of static radiance cloned to welcome in every
lead a blue screen, bruised canope
victim of the cursed nursed Technicolor drunk support
ooh, I all advertisements
though accused by news casters who capture and pollute
fed hazardous fog to joy luck catholic squad
please take me, please me, please make me a zombie
please I want to donate my brain to the monstrous profit
now, twenty first plagued
to wide eyed glamour addict patients
telecast
blue be the banners, well, sure I'll be a Marine
with a clean sword and blue uniform, it only takes a and a dream
and I abide great idiot box supply, fuzz vapor,
black out of New York, hey honey, get the
I'm in a doom, doom generation, pacin', ancient electric
sleepin' to miss the AM oasis
my name is a heart, sloppy obligation
turn my stilt into my guilt and have a box blame frame adjacent station
reality scrambled and suck the life out of a hidden vandal
and loving every minute of the gimmick, change the

plug it in, turn it on, prop me up the couch
lights out, I ain't ever gonna to leave my house
satellite dish, get up on my wish list, turn me to a
let my clean spirit dissolve through the

plug it in, turn it on, be my mother when she's gone,
wipe the off my chinny-chin during the breaks
if I gotta go blind do it for the love of all television kind
and that's fine, and fine...

me a star, I wanna touch gold
hold me in a dream, mearly inches from the screen
deleted sacrificed to one electron monster
my little future to the monitor
damn it feels good, turn on, in
zoom in to hug the bug up in your family
but the children to love it
yes mother, me and discovery
and the static flock to where I sleep
by the glow of that magic box big
stereo mastered often the freak seekers, eyes spiraling
in the star spangled wiring
I can from toxicated visuals
and all the kings horses abort the to royalty
the fortress
riddle me with glee, the end all telepromter above my sleeping head
I'll be by morning anyway
color my values with mundane humor in thirty minute
to feel the magnetic picket censorship
I commercials twenty four-seven
I wanna from my bed and set an
example for all my overworked, brethren
I bond with a sick string of
and lurking circuitry
with allegiance beyond the glass surface
adamant within the fine school of possessed graduate catalysts
zero addict, immaculate
it goes- big screen, little screen, any do
let me hold the controller and I won't have to murder you

plug it in, it on, let my little eyes glaze
screens lined up along the borders of the maze
I see the five day forecast, fourteen days in advance
so I can get my two weeks notice every time the sun

it in, turn it on, silent fix better than nothing
let a once divine soul feel the functions of the
the viciousness, ridiculous, a dummy's interest
touch the power button meet your maker, ain't that

it in, turn it on, say goodbye to Sunday afternoon
fix the antenna, sit back and let bloom
a beautiful sight, with a most ugly intention
but I taste it everyday and bathe inside the

plug it in, turn it on, once have you talked back to me
your majesty, I love you, I you
my is sitcom, soaps, news, bad dramatization
come along with me, my friend for the glorious sensation