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 biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
maverick across 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 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
Purina slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in front of SCHLEIB
$39.95
like barkers at a gallery
throw out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
"Hello sucker, we like money
just as as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a born every minute
you just happened to be comin' 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 cabs
stacked up in the taxi waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy to a magical place
waitin' in line "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt full of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' bankrupt brakes, over driven
under paid, fed, a day late and a dollar short
but Christ I got my lips a bottle and
my on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
standin' on the like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street corner with a lookin
' for kind of Cheshire billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and using parking
as walking sticks on the inebriated
with my eyelids propped open at mast
but you know... over at Chubb's Pool Hall and
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the steel blue dream smoke, it
was the radio groaned out the hit parade
and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards
and an Olympia winked through a torn yellow
shade, old Chance himself leanin' up against
a and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot
impossible you say? ...hard to believe?,
out of the realm of naaaa
he be stretchin' out tawny fingers out across a
green felt with a provocative golden gate
and a full table railshot no sweat and I leaned
up against my bannister and over to the
Wurlitzer and I A-2 I was lookin' for
something Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no
"that's life," that's all the people say ridin' high
in April, seriously down in May, but I know I'm
gonna that tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon that's all off to one side
It was about that time 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
pre-paid room at the St. Moritz (scat)
and the El came tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
like the ghost of Gene
with an cam and glasspacks
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet pavement and a
jam session on Belmont tonight
and the of the pending
evening, I up against
my bannister and been looking
for some of an emotional
investment romantic dividends
kind of a physical
is
as I attempt to all my
missed payments, into
payment
through the
with romantic and leg akimbo
but the are more than likely I'll probably
be held over for smashed weekend