Luyện nghe bài hát The King of the Rollerama

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

He was a real eight-wheeled Mercury
Skating to Take a Chance on Me
And I'm surprised I just die from such a preteen drama
In his non-rent skates he was six tall!
Underneath that pulsing disco
His friends called him he was
of the Rollerama
(Well, he wasn't a king, he was a rink guard,
but to an on the verge of womanhood,
Is no difference.)

He had a girlfriend (they'd neck in his Baretta)
Sometimes she wore a poncho, she was so way
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 balance and I fell off to the
Oh, here comes my darling hero, too fast for him to
He skated over all my fingers and it didn't his stride!!!
I didn't that cast for a month!

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

One day, the comb in the back pocket of his
tight designer defied all natural laws of surface
physics and out onto the rink. I clasped the relic to
my with trembling hands and all afternoon practiced
the words that would fall from my lips to his strong, ears.
Finally, as he was a quarter into a game of Asteroids,
I made my move, up to him and I go,
"Um, you this.
And like, "Thanks."
And as he grabbed for the comb HIS
BRUSHED MINE and I remember with a
clarity far beyond my years, no event of my
life would ever equal that moment of ecstasy.
And to be honest, really ever has.

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

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