Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stirrin up the sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue moon
rollin' across an obsidian sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
on the corner I'm freezin';
on a restless boulevard at a midnight
I'm across town EASY STREET
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the buildings towering high
lit like or black dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in front of SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a shootin'
throw out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
as well as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you just to be comin' along at the right time"
come here 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
up in the taxi zones waitin' like
pinball
to be off a joy ride to a magical place
in line like "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 corner a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a gasper
' for some of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and using meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped 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 cobalt steel blue smoke, it
was the that groaned out the hit parade
and the squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an Olympia winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 combination shot
you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out tawny fingers out across a
cool green felt with a provocative golden
and a full table railshot no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and over to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
starring E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's all the people say ridin' high
in April, seriously shot in May, but I know I'm
gonna change tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that that the sun
came yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a dracula moon in a black
was its way back to its
room 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 of wet radials
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for kind of an emotional
investment with dividends
of a physical negociation
is
as I to consolidate all my
weekly payments, into
one-low-monthly
through the
with residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than likely I'll
be held over for another weekend