Luyện nghe bài hát Doc Pomus

Man in a wheelchair, of the Forrest
freighters, hustlers, hard-up millionaires.

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

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

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

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

And he could be one of those happy cripples,
The kind that smile and tell you OK.

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

Back at the Forrest, in the of the lobby,
The diner three bullets in the head.

Bop, Bop, Bop! Ba-op!

Doc down, eating his linguine,
Thinking up a for the dead.

(Chorus)

Fred Neil, Benny, crazy Phil Spector,
Juice and Eydie Gorm