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 biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
rollin' maverick an obsidian sky
as the go groanin' and wheezin',
down on the corner I'm
on a restless boulevard at a road
I'm across town from STREET
with the tight of moviegoers and out of towners
on the
and the buildings high above
lit dominoes or black dice
all the car salesmen dressed up in
Checkerboard slacks
and Foster wrap-around,
pacing in of EARL SCHLEIB
$39.95
like at a shootin' gallery
they throw out kind of a Texas routine
"Hello sucker, we like money
as well as anybody else's here"
or give you the P.T. Barnum bit
"There's a sucker born every
you just happened to be comin' at the right time"
over here now
you know... all the sailors are on the stroll
in a of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
decent factory air and dreams
and the piss gypsy cabs
stacked up in the zones waitin' like
machines
to be ticking off a joy ride to a place
waitin' in like "truckers welcome" diners
with dirt lots of
Peterbilts, Kenworths, and the like, and
they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over
under paid, over fed, a day and a dollar short
but Christ I got my lips around a and
my on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
on the corner like a "just in town"
jasper, on a street with a gasper lookin
' for some kind of billboard grin
stroking a goateed chin, and parking meters
as walking sticks on the inebriated
with my eyelids propped at half mast
but you know... at Chubb's Pool Hall and Snooker
it was a nickle two, yea it was a nickle after two
and in the steel blue dream 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 Chance himself leanin' up
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 long tawny fingers out a
cool green felt with a 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 like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Caps
starring Chuck E. Weiss or Blood Pressure
by George (cryin' in the streets) - no dice
"that's life," what all the people say ridin' high
in April, seriously shot down in May, but I I'm
gonna change tune when I'm standing underneath
a buttery moon all melted off to one side
It was just about that that the sun
crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
at the foot of Street
and a dracula in a black disguise
was making its way to its
pre-paid at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
and the El train tumbling across the trestles and it sounded
the ghost of Gene Krupa
with an overhead cam and
and the whispering brushes of wet
on a wet pavement and a
traffic jam session on tonight
and the rhapsody of the
evening, I leaned up
my bannister and I've been
for some kind of an
investment with romantic
kind of a physical
is
as I to consolidate all my
missed payments, into
payment
through the
with romantic and leg akimbo
but the chances are more than likely probably
be held over for another smashed