Luyện nghe bài hát Nighthawk Postcards

there's a blur down the plateglass
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 go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a restless at a midnight road
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the towering high above
lit like dominoes or dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
barkers at a shootin' gallery
they out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like your
just as well as else's here"
or they give you the P.T. bit
"There's a sucker every minute
you happened to be comin' along at the right time"
come over now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and AM-FM
and the piss gypsy cabs
stacked up in the taxi zones waitin'
machines
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
in line like "truckers welcome" diners
with lots full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with 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 standin' on the
standin' on the 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 walking sticks on the stroll
with my eyelids propped open at mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle after two, yea it was a nickle two
and in the cobalt blue dream smoke, it
was the radio that groaned out the hit
and the squeaked, the floorboards creaked
and an Olympia sign winked through a yellow
shade, old Jack Chance himself up against
a Wurlitzer and out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the realm of naaaa
he be stretchin' out long fingers out across a
cool felt with a provocative golden gate
and a full table that's no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and wandered to the
and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
something like Wine, Wine, by the Night Caps
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 shot 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 about that time 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 room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El train came tumbling across the and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
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 kind of an
investment with dividends
kind of a negociation
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed weekly payments,
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