Luyện nghe bài hát Reality Whitewash

The grey man at the
Looks around to see if there's skirt he can steal
He doesn't want to, he's just acting out a game
In their own up way, most people do the same
She cleans the bathroom
So she can her eyes
An in delusion, an artist in disguise
not content with what she is, but she does the best she can
Doesn't do it for herself, she it for her man
And meanwhile he's out hunting, master of the hunt
Cruising down the high street in his search for cunt
And the posters on the hoardings his pursuit
ads, where men are men, and women simply cute
And the men are in motorcars and the men have nerves of steel
And they of Charlies Angels as they firmly grip the wheel
And they fantasise screwing in the back seat of the car
Fantasise they're fucking with a real movie star
to fill the gaps, to fill in every crack
A whitewash on reality to hide the they lack
Now she's sponging down the cooker, on the all is fine
His dinner's in the oven cos doing overtime
She switches on the telly, it makes her secure
Helps confirm her way of life, who to ask for more
She sees the happy unit, wife and hubby on the screen
The perfect social unit, just like it's always
She's done the very she can
To love and and obey her man
And if she should doubt the wisdom of her choice
She can on the television for its moderating voice
The ads and weekly series are the proof she
That a life of boredom outweighs the
She up till the epilogue and goes to bed alone
Content that he's finished work he'll go straight home
Meanwhile he has another scotch, the has a coke
If he's asked the wife he treats it as a joke
"Hear the one the you-know-what"
He's got it takes and he takes what he's got
He took his and he'll take plenty more
She on a rat to keep the wolf from the door
Then maybe in her loneliness she'll want to a child
be taught the games of adulthood, boxed and filed
Another life to whitewash, to us a child is
To in its parents' tracks, the path's well worn
and falsehood, truth and lie
The fucked up system they call
They needs its servants, each birth is one more
Gently talk of freedom as they quietly lock the
Cos the system needs its servants if the going to run
for the workhouse, targets for the gun