Luyện nghe bài hát At Dave's

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

He stumble-crawled Dave's Luncheonette, climbed into a booth.
He insisted on at the menu for six minutes and thirty seven seconds every day
even though he 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 for something to happen.
As he was eating, some of the evaporated,
some people born, some were married, a star imploded, a friends of his was throwing up, two others were having sex.
As he finished his last of eggs, a fly sitting directly opposite from him, died.

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