Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle 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 busses go and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless at a midnight road
I'm across town EASY STREET
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the buildings towering above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Purina Checkerboard
and Grant wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a shootin'
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
just as well as anybody here"
or they give you the P.T. bit
"There's a born every minute
you just to be comin' along at the right time"
come over now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
factory air and AM-FM dreams
and the piss yellow cabs
stacked up in the taxi waitin' like
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in line "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt lots of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, fed, a day late and a dollar short
but I got my lips 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 corner with a gasper lookin
' for some kind of Cheshire billboard
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking sticks on the inebriated
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... over at Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle after two, yea it was a 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 winked a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 combination shot
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the of possibility? naaaa
he be stretchin' out tawny fingers out across a
cool green with a provocative golden gate
and a table railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and wandered to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Pressure
by (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin'
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all melted off to one
It was just that time that the sun
came crawlin' out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a dracula moon in a disguise
was its way back to its
pre-paid room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El came tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
an overhead cam and glasspacks
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam on Belmont tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and been looking
for some kind of an
investment romantic dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed weekly payments,
payment
through the
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are more than I'll probably
be held over for smashed weekend