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 cue ball moon
rollin' across an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless at a midnight road
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the buildings towering above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Purina Checkerboard
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in front of SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas routine
"Hello sucker, we your money
just as as anybody else's here"
or they you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you happened to be comin' along at the right time"
come here now
you know... all the harlequin are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and dreams
and the yellow gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones waitin'
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical
waitin' in line like "truckers welcome"
dirt lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over
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 standin' on the
on the corner like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street with a gasper lookin
' for some kind of billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking sticks on the inebriated
with my eyelids open at half mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool and Snooker
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the steel blue dream smoke, it
was the radio groaned out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the creaked
and an Olympia sign winked through a yellow
shade, old Jack himself 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 long tawny out across a
cool green felt with a golden gate
and a full table railshot that's no sweat and I
up against my bannister and wandered to the
and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the say ridin' high
in April, seriously shot down in May, but I I'm
gonna change tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all off to one side
It was just about that that the sun
came crawlin' yellow out of a
at the of 23rd Street
and a dracula in a black disguise
was its way back to its
room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came across the trestles and it sounded
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for some of an emotional
investment with dividends
of a physical negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed weekly payments,
payment
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more likely I'll probably
be held over for another weekend