Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a drizzle down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the night air
and a yellow biscuit of a cue ball moon
rollin' across an obsidian sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
on the corner I'm freezin';
on a restless at a midnight road
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight knots of 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 Grant wrap-around,
pacing in of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we your money
just as well as else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker every minute
you happened to be comin' along at the right time"
come over now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent air and AM-FM dreams
and the yellow gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones waitin'
pinball
to be off a joy ride 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 short
but Christ I got my around a bottle and
my on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
standin' on the like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street with a gasper lookin
' for some of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a chin, and using parking meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped open at mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool 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 groaned out the hit
and the chalk squeaked, the creaked
and an Olympia sign winked through a yellow
shade, old Chance himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool green with a provocative golden gate
and a full table railshot 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 E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," that's what all the people say high
in April, seriously shot in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that tune when I'm underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that time the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the of 23rd Street
and a moon in a black disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El came tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
an overhead cam and glasspacks
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet pavement and a
jam session on Belmont 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
the nose
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are more than I'll probably
be held for another smashed weekend