Luyện nghe bài hát At Dave's

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

He towards Dave's Luncheonette, climbed into a booth.
He insisted on looking at the menu for six minutes and seven seconds every day
though he always ordered bacon and eggs, toast and coffee.
This morning, he also ordered water, but he drink any of it.

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

He left Dave's, north.
Nothing much the rest of the day.
Had he it was Hitler's birthday, he would not have celebrated.