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',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless boulevard at a midnight
I'm across town from EASY
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit like or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard 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 like your
just as well as else's here"
or they you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born every
you just happened to be along at the right time"
come here now
you know... all the harlequin are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent air and AM-FM dreams
and the piss yellow gypsy
stacked up in the taxi waitin' like
machines
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 with bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, over fed, a day late and a short
but Christ I got my lips around a and
my foot on the throttle and I'm on the corner
on the corner 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 walking on the inebriated stroll
with my eyelids open at half mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Hall 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 squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an sign winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you ...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 no sweat and I leaned
up my bannister and wandered over to the
Wurlitzer and I A-2 I was lookin' for
something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night
Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's all the people say ridin' high
in April, seriously down in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that tune I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of 23rd
and a dracula in a black disguise
was making its way to its
room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
an overhead cam and glasspacks
and the brushes of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the of the pending
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and I've looking
for some kind of an
investment with romantic
kind of a negociation
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed weekly payments,
payment
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are than likely I'll probably
be over for another smashed weekend