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 of a buttery cue ball moon
maverick across an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the corner I'm
on a restless boulevard at a road
I'm across town from STREET
with the knots of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the towering high above
lit like dominoes or dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Purina slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in front of SCHLEIB
$39.95
like at a shootin' 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 just happened to be comin' along at the time"
over here now
you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and AM-FM
and the piss yellow gypsy
stacked up in the taxi waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy to a magical place
waitin' in line like "truckers welcome"
with dirt lots of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with brakes, over driven
under paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar
but Christ I got my lips 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 lookin
' for some of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and using parking
as sticks 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 steel blue smoke, it
was the that groaned out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the creaked
and an Olympia sign winked through a yellow
shade, old Chance himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination
impossible you ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of naaaa
he be stretchin' out long fingers out across a
cool felt with a provocative golden gate
and a table railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and over to the
Wurlitzer and I A-2 I was lookin' for
something like Wine, Wine, by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the people say high
in April, seriously shot down in May, but I I'm
gonna change tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just that time that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the of 23rd Street
and a dracula moon in a black
was its way back to its
pre-paid room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the and it sounded
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
jam session on Belmont tonight
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and been looking
for some of an emotional
investment romantic dividends
kind of a negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed weekly payments,
one-low-monthly
through the
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are than likely I'll probably
be held for another smashed weekend