Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle the plateglass
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 busses go and wheezin',
on the corner I'm freezin';
on a restless at a midnight road
I'm across town EASY STREET
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the buildings towering high
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as well as else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born minute
you just happened to be comin' along at the 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 piss yellow cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones waitin'
machines
to be ticking off a joy to a magical place
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
with lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, over fed, a day and a dollar short
but I got my lips around a bottle and
my foot on the throttle and I'm standin' on the
on the corner like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a gasper
' for some kind of billboard grin
a goateed chin, and using parking meters
as walking 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 nickle two
and in the cobalt steel blue smoke, it
was the radio that groaned out the hit
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia sign winked through a torn
shade, old Jack Chance 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 stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool green felt with a provocative golden
and a full table railshot that's no sweat and I
up against my bannister and wandered to the
and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the say ridin' high
in April, seriously shot down in May, but I I'm
gonna change that when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just that time that the sun
came crawlin' yellow out of a
at the of 23rd Street
and a dracula in a black disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El came tumbling across the trestles 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 bannister and I've been
for some kind of an
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 than likely I'll probably
be held for another smashed weekend