Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle down the
as a neon stick stirrin up the sultry 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 boulevard at a road
I'm across from EASY STREET
with the tight of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit like dominoes or dice
all the used car dressed up in
Purina Checkerboard
and Grant wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they throw out kind of a Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
just as well as anybody here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born minute
you happened to be comin' along at the right time"
come here now
you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and AM-FM
and the piss gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're with bankrupt brakes, over driven
paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar short
but Christ I got my around a bottle and
my foot on the throttle and I'm on the corner
standin' on the like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner a gasper lookin
' for some kind of Cheshire billboard
stroking a goateed chin, and using meters
as sticks on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids propped open at mast
but you know... at Chubb's Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle after two, yea it was a after two
and in the cobalt steel blue smoke, it
was the that groaned out the hit parade
and the squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an sign winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack Chance himself up against
a Wurlitzer and out a 5 ball combination shot
you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out long fingers out across a
cool green felt with a golden gate
and a table railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my and wandered over to the
Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was for
something like Wine, Wine, by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," what all the people say ridin' high
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 melted off to one
It was just about time that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a dracula moon in a 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 Krupa
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and been looking
for some of an emotional
investment romantic dividends
of a physical negociation
is
as I attempt to all my
missed payments, into
payment
through the
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are more than likely I'll
be held for another smashed weekend