Luyện nghe bài hát The King of the Rollerama

At twelve my friends read Teenbeat and to Peter Frampton
Hung Leif Garret posters by their beds
It all seemed rather shallow, (my love was mature)
It was the kind that ripped an adolescent heart to
All week I'd dream him in science and in math class
I eat I couldn't sleep 'til Saturday arrived
Then I'd don my macram vest, a sprits of Jean
And I would go down to the rink so I could watch him on by

He was a live eight-wheeled Mercury
Skating backwards to Take a on Me
And I'm surprised I didn't just die such a preteen drama
In his skates he was six feet tall!
Underneath that disco ball
His friends him 'Wheels' he was
of the Rollerama
(Well, he wasn't actually a king, he was a guard,
but to an adolescent on the of womanhood,
Is no difference.)

He had a pretty girlfriend (they'd in his Baretta)
Sometimes she wore a poncho, she was so way
She hung out at the Snack Bar 'til they called couples
And every they took the rink, I'd blubber like a fool
I'll not forget that during crack the whip once
Woah! I lost my and I fell off to the side
Oh, here comes my hero, too fast for him to stop
He skated over all my fingers and it break his stride!!!
I didn't wash that for a month!

He was too for girls like me to take
Leaving Old Spice breezes in his
And I'm I didn't just die from such a preteen drama
It was there I what true love means
As he breezed by me in Jordache
His real was Mike, he was
of the Rollerama

One day, the comb wedged in the back of his
tight designer jeans defied all laws of surface
physics and fell out onto the rink. I clasped the to
my breast with trembling hands and all afternoon
the words that would fall from my lips to his strong, ears.
Finally, as he was slipping a into a game of Asteroids,
I my move, skated up to him and I go,
"Um, you this.
And like, "Thanks."
And as he for the comb HIS FINGERS
BRUSHED MINE and I remember thinking a
clarity far beyond my years, that no of my
would ever equal that moment of perfect ecstasy.
And to be honest, nothing ever has.

Oh, somewhere in town tonight
paunchy guy clutches a silver whistle tight
Puts on his old satin jacket and relives the drama
Cause when you're rink in a one-mall town
Well, nowhere you can go but down but
You a star!
of the Rollerama.

The that this is an accurate, first-person account
of my adolescence is a fallacy. I never Jean Natae.
I was the Sweet Honesty type. ~D.F.