Luyện nghe bài hát Baker Street Muse

Baker muse

bus-stop. click. shop-window. heel.
gentleman. fly-button. feel.
In the underpass, the man stands.
With cold hands.
match-seller, breath out of time.
You can me on another line.
Indian restaurants that my brain.
Newspaper warriors the names they

Advertise from the stand.
With cold hands.
Symphony word-player, I'll be headline.
If you catch me time.

Didn't make her --- with my baker ruse.
Couldn't shake her --- with my baker bruise.
to take her --- but I'm just a baker street muse.

Ale-spew, --- boys, throw it up clean.
Coke and bacardi them green.
From the typing pool the mini-skirted princess
With finesse.
Fertile earth-mother, your burial is fifty feet
Down in the baker underground. (what the hell!)
Walking down the thinking,
``how the am I today? ''
Well, I didn't ask you but thanks all the same.

and the whore

``big fraulein, put your weight on me,'' said the
to the whore,
Desperate for more in his assault the mountain.
man, his youth a fountain.
Overdrafted and counting.
Vernacular, verbose; an attempt at close to
he came from.
In the doorway of the stars, between street
And
Proposition, deal. flying button feel. testing.
ever-bulging. dressed to the left, divulging
The of his years.
induced fears.
Shedding bell-end in the pocket of her resistance.
International assistance flowing and full
To his tool.
his eyes over her wool.
And he as he comes.
And my slowly turns me into the marylebone
Road.

Crash-barrier

And here I --- dragging one foot in the gutter ---
In the midnight of the shop that sells cheap
Radios.
And sits she --- no bed, no bread, no butter ---
On a double yellow line --- where she can anytime.
Old lady grey; waltzer ---
Some only son's mother. baker casualty.
Oh, mr. policeman --- blue ballet master.
Feet in sticking ---
the old lady on.
Strange ---
His to her juliet.
Her draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken allowed to sleep here in the
emptiness.
Oh officer, let me her to a cheap hotel ---
I'll pay the bill and her well - like hell you
will!
No do-good over kill. we teach them
To be still independent.

england reverie

I have no time for time or rolling stone.
I have no wish for wishing or wishing bones.
I have no in the country I have no motor car.
And if you think I'm joking, then I'm a one-line
Joker in a bar.
And it seems there's no-body left for and i'm
A one-band-man.
And I want no top twenty funeral or a grand.

There was a boy stood on a burning log,
Rubbing his hands with glee. he said, ``oh england,
Did you my smile; or did you light
This under me?
One day be a minstrel in the gallery.
And paint you a of the queen.
And if sometimes I to a cynical degree ---
It's just the nonsense it seems.''

So I drift down the baker street valley,
In my un-reality.
And when all is said and all is done --- I wish
For a one.
It's a real-life ripe certainty ---
That I'm just a street muse.

Talking to the gutter-stinking, winking in the
Old way.
I to catch my eye but I looked the other way.

Indian restaurants that curry my ---
Newspaper warriors the names they
Advertise from the stand.
Circumcised with cold hands.

bus-stop. click. shop-window. heel.
gentleman. fly-button. feel.
In the underpass, the man stands.
With flute hands.
match-seller, breath out of time ---
You can me on another line.

Didn't make her --- with my street ruse.
shake her --- with my baker street bruise.
Like to her --- but I'm just a baker street muse.

(I get out!)