Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball
rollin' across an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless boulevard at a road
I'm across town from EASY
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the buildings high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a shootin'
they throw out kind of a Texas routine
"Hello sucker, we your money
as well as anybody 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 here now
you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
factory air and AM-FM dreams
and the piss yellow cabs
stacked up in the zones waitin' like
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
dirt lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, driven
under paid, fed, a day late and a dollar short
but Christ I got my around a bottle and
my on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
standin' on the corner a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a lookin
' for some of Cheshire billboard grin
a goateed chin, and using parking meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids open at half mast
but you know... over at Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the cobalt steel blue smoke, it
was the radio that groaned out the hit
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an sign winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack Chance leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination
you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out tawny fingers out across a
cool green felt a provocative golden gate
and a full table railshot that's no and I leaned
up against my bannister and wandered to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood
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 that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all off to one side
It was just about time that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the of 23rd Street
and a moon in a black disguise
was its way back to its
pre-paid room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El train tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
an overhead cam and glasspacks
and the brushes of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I up against
my bannister and I've been
for kind of an emotional
investment with romantic
of a physical negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed payments, into
one-low-monthly
the nose
with romantic and leg akimbo
but the chances are than likely I'll probably
be held for another smashed weekend