Luyện nghe bài hát At Dave's

There were other of knowing:
he stepped a yellow morning which seemed to him to be,
well, not but kind of a grayish maroon.
He couldn't out why;
he hadn't eaten mushrooms in at a week.

He stumble-crawled towards Dave's Luncheonette, into a booth.
He insisted on looking at the menu for six minutes and seven seconds every day
even he always ordered bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.
This morning, he also ordered water, but he didn't any of it.

It was Thursday, 20, 1967. He was waiting for something to happen.
As he was eating, of the water evaporated,
some people were born, some were married, a star imploded, a friends of his was throwing up, two others having sex.
As he finished his last of eggs, a fly sitting directly opposite from him, died.

He Dave's, headed north.
Nothing happened the rest of the day.
Had he known it was Hitler's birthday, he would not celebrated.