Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a drizzle down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue moon
maverick across an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the corner I'm
on a restless boulevard at a midnight
I'm town from EASY STREET
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
barkers at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as well as else's here"
or they give you the P.T. bit
"There's a sucker every minute
you just happened to be comin' at the right time"
come over now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and AM-FM
and the piss gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones like
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar
but Christ I got my around a bottle and
my foot on the throttle and I'm standin' on the
standin' on the like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a lookin
' for some of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a chin, and using parking meters
as walking sticks on the inebriated
with my eyelids propped open at mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the cobalt blue dream smoke, it
was the that groaned out the hit parade
and the squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an sign winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the of possibility? naaaa
he be stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool green felt with a golden gate
and a full table railshot that's no and I leaned
up my bannister and wandered over to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin'
in April, seriously shot in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that tune I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that time the sun
came yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of 23rd
and a dracula moon in a disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the trestles and it
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam on Belmont tonight
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I up against
my and I've been looking
for kind of an emotional
investment with dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I attempt to all my
missed payments, into
payment
through the
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are more than likely probably
be held over for smashed weekend