Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a drizzle down the plateglass
as a neon swizzle stick up the sultry night air
and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue moon
rollin' maverick an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' 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 towering above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in front of SCHLEIB
$39.95
like at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan
"Hello sucker, we like money
as well as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you just happened to be along at the right time"
come over 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
up in the taxi zones waitin' like
pinball
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
dirt lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, over fed, a day late and a short
but Christ I got my lips 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 Cheshire billboard
a goateed chin, and using parking meters
as sticks on the inebriated stroll
with my propped open at half mast
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 that out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia sign winked a torn yellow
shade, old Jack himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination
impossible you ...hard to believe?, perhaps
out of the realm of naaaa
he be stretchin' out long tawny out across a
cool green felt a provocative golden gate
and a full table that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my and wandered over to the
Wurlitzer and I A-2 I was lookin' for
like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
starring E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin'
in April, seriously down in May, but I know I'm
gonna that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that time the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of 23rd
and a dracula moon in a black
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
like the ghost of Gene
with an overhead cam and
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on Belmont
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for some kind of an
investment with romantic
kind of a 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 more than likely I'll
be held for another smashed weekend