Luyện nghe bài hát Doc Pomus

Man in a wheelchair, of the Forrest
With freighters, hustlers, millionaires.

Mobsters, cops, whores, and Marxist.
All human is there.

Man in a listens to the chatter,
Writes down all the crap he hears.

He can't move around, but it doesn't really
In the Forrest all you is eyes and ears.

And out pour, the hits and the misses.
Me Loose, Lonely Avenue,
And down in Nashville, always sing Suspicion.
Pomus/Shuman, 1962. (Chorus)

And he never could be one of happy cripples,
The that smile and tell you life's OK.

He was mad as hell, and bitter.
He a way to make his feelings pay.

at the Forrest, in the steakhouse of the lobby,
The diner gets bullets in the head.

Bop, Bop, Bop! Ba-op!

Doc looks down, his linguine,
up a lyric for the dead.

(Chorus)

Fred Neil, Jack Benny, Phil Spector,
Pumpkin and Eydie Gorm