Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur drizzle down the
as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the night air
and a yellow biscuit of a cue ball moon
rollin' maverick across an sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a boulevard at a midnight road
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight knots of and out of towners
on the
and the towering high above
lit like dominoes or black
all the used car dressed up in
Purina slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
pacing in front of EARL
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as well as anybody here"
or they give you the P.T. bit
"There's a born every 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 air and AM-FM dreams
and the piss gypsy cabs
stacked up in the zones waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical
waitin' in line "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 late and a short
but Christ I got my lips around a and
my on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
standin' on the corner a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a gasper
' for some kind of Cheshire grin
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking sticks on the stroll
my eyelids propped open at half mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool Hall and
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 himself leanin' up against
a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the realm of possibility?
he be stretchin' out long tawny fingers out a
cool green felt a provocative golden gate
and a full railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
up my bannister and wandered over to the
and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
something Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin'
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
gonna change that tune when I'm underneath
a buttery moon that's all melted off to one
It was just about that that the sun
came yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a moon in a black disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the trestles and it
like the ghost of Gene
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet and there's a
traffic jam on Belmont tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for some of an emotional
investment with romantic
of a physical negociation
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed weekly payments,
payment
through the
romantic residuals and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than likely probably
be held over for another weekend