Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur down the plateglass
as a neon stick stirrin up the sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball
rollin' maverick across an sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless boulevard at a midnight
I'm across town EASY STREET
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit like or black dice
all the used car dressed up in
Purina Checkerboard
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in front of EARL
$39.95
like barkers at a shootin'
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we your money
just as as anybody else's here"
or they you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born minute
you just happened to be comin' at the right time"
come over now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and 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 like "truckers welcome" diners
with lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, driven
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 corner with a gasper lookin
' for some kind of Cheshire billboard
stroking a chin, and using parking meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... over at Chubb's Hall and Snooker
it was a after two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the cobalt blue dream smoke, it
was the radio that out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack Chance leanin' up against
a and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the of possibility? naaaa
he be stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool green felt with a provocative golden
and a full table that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and over 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 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 that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all melted off to one
It was just about that that the sun
came crawlin' yellow out of a
at the foot of 23rd
and a dracula in a black disguise
was making its way 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 brushes of wet
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and I've been
for kind of an emotional
investment with romantic
of a physical negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed weekly payments,
one-low-monthly
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than I'll probably
be held for another smashed weekend