Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle the plateglass
as a swizzle stick stirrin up the sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue moon
rollin' maverick across an sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the corner I'm
on a restless boulevard at a road
I'm town from EASY STREET
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Purina slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
barkers at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
just as as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker 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 zones like
machines
to be ticking off a joy to a magical place
waitin' in line like "truckers welcome"
with lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over
under paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar
but I got my lips around a bottle and
my foot on the and I'm standin' on the corner
on the corner like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a gasper
' for some kind of Cheshire grin
stroking a goateed chin, and using meters
as walking sticks on the stroll
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool and Snooker
it was a nickle after two, yea it was a after two
and in the cobalt blue dream smoke, it
was the radio that groaned out the hit
and the squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an Olympia sign winked through a torn
shade, old Jack Chance himself up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 combination shot
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out long fingers out across a
cool felt with a provocative golden gate
and a full railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and over to the
and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
something Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," that's what all the say ridin' high
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
gonna change tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all off to one side
It was just that time that the sun
came yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a moon in a black disguise
was its way back to its
room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
with an overhead cam and
and the brushes of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the of the pending
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and I've been
for kind of an emotional
investment with dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I attempt to all my
missed weekly payments,
payment
through the
with romantic and leg akimbo
but the chances are than likely I'll probably
be held over for another smashed