Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle down the
as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the sultry air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue moon
rollin' maverick across an sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
on the corner I'm freezin';
on a boulevard at a midnight road
I'm town from EASY STREET
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the buildings towering high
lit like dominoes or black
all the used car salesmen up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
just as well as else's here"
or they you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you just 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,"
factory air and AM-FM dreams
and the yellow gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones waitin'
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical
waitin' in line like "truckers welcome"
dirt lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over
under paid, over fed, a day and a dollar short
but I got my lips around a bottle and
my foot on the and I'm standin' on the corner
standin' on the corner a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner a gasper lookin
' for some kind of billboard grin
stroking a chin, and using parking meters
as walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped open at half
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool and Snooker
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the cobalt blue dream smoke, it
was the radio groaned out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the creaked
and an Olympia sign winked a torn yellow
shade, old Jack Chance himself leanin' up
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball shot
you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the of possibility? naaaa
he be stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool felt with a provocative golden gate
and a full table railshot no sweat and I leaned
up my bannister and wandered over to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night
Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," that's what all the say ridin' high
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that tune I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all melted off to one
It was just about that time the sun
came crawlin' out of a manhole
at the foot of 23rd
and a dracula in a black disguise
was its way back to its
room at the St. Moritz Hotel (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 and there's a
jam session on Belmont tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for kind of an emotional
investment with dividends
of a physical negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed payments, into
one-low-monthly
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are than likely I'll probably
be held over for smashed weekend