Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets and yer mind grows numb
When you think too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion of life's busy race
No what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine don't to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand on
And the starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer to fetch it
And yer starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' though you know its wrong
And comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' so far away
And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof a-shakin'
And yer whole a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer of sun turn to hours of storm
And to you sometimes say
"I never it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping sweat
And lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's gone a-flying
And yer heart feels like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer
And you it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its
And you yer ears might a been hurt
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white a four flush
And all the you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you
Like in the middle of magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And there's something on yer you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be
But it's trapped on yer and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your in bed
And no matter how you try you just say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his
And his jaws start closin with you
And yer on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that detour sign
And you say to yourself what am I doin'
On this I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the I'm taking
In this air I'm
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too
Why am I walking, where am I
What am I saying, am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm writin'
In the that I'm thinkin'
In ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
What am I giving, what am I
But you try your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and to let
kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop
"Cause sometimes you hear'em the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of
And you can't for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream was screaming
And you know that something special you're needin'
And you know there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer from bleeding
And you something special
Yeah, you need special all right
You need a fast flyin' on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you
You a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred over
You need a Greyhound bus that bar no race
won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your
And by any number of bets in the
Will be rollin' long after the craze
You something to open up a new door
To show you you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or
You need something to your eyes
You something to make it known
That it's you and no one else owns
That spot that yer standing, space that you're sitting
That the ain't got you beat
it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how
you might get kicked
You need something all right
You need special to give you hope
But just a word
That you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled

But that's you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you it too good
"Cause you look an' you getting the chills

"Cause you can't find it on a bill
And it ain't on Macy's window
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it ain't made in no wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit
With that half-wit on it
Ranting and and taking yer money
And you thinks it's
No you find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the of a supper club
And as hell you're bound to tell
no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket
No, and it in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are you
And it in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie blouse
And you can't find it on the course
And Uncle Remus can't you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy
And it ain't in the store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate voices
come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my skin shine, at my skin glow
Look at my laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their ribbons and
No you'll not now or no day
Find it on the doorsteps out-a paper mache?
And inside it the made of molasses
every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out
turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who and burp and bend and crack
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer
My
The ones that wheel and and whirl and twirl
And play games each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the fools
That run around
And make all rules for the ones that got
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any but think they do
And they're foolin' you
The ones who on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all kinds of and chicks
And you yell to and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like
there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel
Good God
STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
You hear yer name, you can't see yer face
You look some other place
And where do you look for this that yer seekin'
do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you look for this oil well
do you look for this candle that's glowin'
Where do you look for this hope that you know is
And out somewhere
And your feet can only down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two kinds of
You can touch and
And turn two kinds of
You can go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to State Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your
You'll find Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though only my opinion
I may be or wrong
You'll them both
In the Grand
At