Luyện nghe bài hát The King of the Rollerama

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

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

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

He was too much for girls like me to
Old Spice breezes in his wake
And I'm surprised I didn't just die from such a drama
It was there I learned what love means
As he breezed by me in jeans
His name was Mike, he was
King of the

One day, the comb wedged in the back of his
tight designer jeans defied all natural laws of
physics and out onto the rink. I clasped the relic to
my breast with trembling hands and all practiced
the words would fall from my lips to his strong, manly ears.
Finally, as he was a quarter 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 thinking with a
clarity far beyond my years, no event of my
life would ever equal moment of perfect ecstasy.
And to be honest, nothing ever has.

Oh, in this town tonight
Some guy clutches a silver whistle tight
Puts on his old satin jacket and relives the drama
Cause when you're rink guard in a town
Well, there's you can go but down but
You a star!
of the Rollerama.

The rumor that this is an accurate, account
of my adolescence is a fallacy. I never wore Natae.
I was always the Sweet type. ~D.F.