Luyện nghe bài hát At Dave's

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

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

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

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