Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle the plateglass
as a swizzle stick stirrin up the sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball
rollin' maverick an obsidian sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
down on the corner I'm
on a boulevard at a midnight road
I'm town from EASY STREET
with the tight of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the towering high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the used car dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in front of EARL
$39.95
like barkers at a shootin'
they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born 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 factory air and AM-FM
and the piss yellow gypsy
stacked up in the taxi zones like
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in line "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt lots of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, driven
paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar short
but I got my lips 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 corner with a lookin
' for some kind of Cheshire grin
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... at Chubb's Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle after two, yea it was a nickle two
and in the steel blue dream smoke, it
was the radio groaned out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot
you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of naaaa
he be out long tawny fingers out across a
cool green felt with a golden gate
and a full table railshot that's no sweat and I
up against my bannister and over to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin'
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
change that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all off to one side
It was just about that that the sun
came yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of 23rd
and a moon in a black disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid room at the St. Hotel (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the and it sounded
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an cam and glasspacks
and the brushes of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam on Belmont tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my and I've been looking
for some of an emotional
with romantic dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I attempt to all my
weekly payments, into
one-low-monthly
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than likely I'll
be held for another smashed weekend