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 ball
rollin' across an obsidian sky
as the busses go and wheezin',
down on the I'm freezin';
on a boulevard at a midnight road
I'm town from EASY STREET
with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of
on the
and the buildings high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the used car salesmen up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Grant wrap-around,
in front of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan
"Hello sucker, we like your
as well as anybody else's here"
or they give you the P.T. bit
"There's a sucker born minute
you just happened to be along at the right time"
come here now
you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
factory air and AM-FM dreams
and the piss yellow gypsy
stacked up in the zones waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in line like "truckers welcome"
with dirt full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over
paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar 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 with a gasper lookin
' for some kind of Cheshire billboard
stroking a goateed chin, and using meters
as sticks on the inebriated stroll
with my 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 after two
and in the cobalt steel blue smoke, it
was the radio that out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia sign through a torn yellow
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 tawny fingers out across a
cool green with a provocative golden gate
and a table 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 (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no dice
"that's life," what all the people say ridin' high
in April, shot down in May, but I know I'm
change that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery that's all melted off to one side
It was just that time that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the of 23rd Street
and a dracula in a black disguise
was its way back to its
pre-paid at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train came tumbling the trestles and it sounded
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an overhead cam and
and the whispering of wet radials
on a wet pavement and a
jam session on Belmont tonight
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and I've been
for kind of an emotional
investment with romantic
of a physical negociation
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed weekly payments,
one-low-monthly
the nose
with romantic residuals and leg
but the chances are more than likely probably
be held for another smashed weekend