Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stick up the sultry night air
and a biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
rollin' maverick an obsidian sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless boulevard at a midnight
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the towering high above
lit like dominoes or dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in front of EARL
$39.95
barkers at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas routine
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as well as anybody here"
or they you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you just happened to be comin' at the right time"
over here now
you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and 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 line like "truckers welcome"
with dirt 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 foot on the throttle and I'm on the corner
standin' on the like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a lookin
' for kind of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking sticks on the stroll
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... over at Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a after two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the steel blue dream smoke, it
was the radio that out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia sign through a torn yellow
shade, old Chance himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 combination shot
impossible you ...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 sweat and I
up against my bannister and wandered to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," what all the people say ridin' high
in April, seriously shot down in May, but I I'm
gonna change that tune I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all melted off to one
It was just about that that the sun
came crawlin' out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a dracula moon in a disguise
was making its way to its
room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Krupa
an overhead cam and glasspacks
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam session on tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my and I've been looking
for some of an emotional
investment romantic dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed payments, into
one-low-monthly
the nose
with residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than likely I'll
be held over for another smashed