Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too
yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's race
No matter what yer if you start givin' up
If the don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new 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' backwards though you know its
And lonesome comes up as down the day
And mornin' seems so far away
And you the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen
to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof a-shakin'
And yer whole a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of
And to yourself you say
"I never knew it was be this way
Why they tell me the day I was born"
And you gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for you ain't quite found yet
And yer in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and long gone a-flying
And yer feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you hear its beat
And you think yer ears a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four
And all the time you holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's you mean
Like in the of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And there's on yer mind you wanna be saying
somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you can't say it
And yer scared to yer you just might forget it
And yer eyes get from the tears in yer head
And yer of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin you underneath
And yer flat on your with yer hands tied behind
And you you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this I'm turnin'
On this I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm
In air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too
Why am I walking, where am I
What am I saying, what am I
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the I'm singin'
In the I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm
In this ocean of I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, am I breaking
What am I giving, am I taking
But you try with your soul best
Never to think these thoughts and to let
Them of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then you know why they're around
Just for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the times comes creeping
And you that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the best of yer
If that was you in the dream was screaming
And you know that it's something special needin'
And you that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to yer brain from bleeding
And you something special
Yeah, you need something all right
You need a flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and you back
You need a cyclone on a stream engine howler
That's been and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a times over
You need a Greyhound bus that bar no race
That won't laugh at yer
Your voice or face
And by any of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long the bubblegum craze
You something to open up a new door
To you something you seen before
But a hundred times or more
You need to open your eyes
You something to make it known
That you and no one else that owns
spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you
That it got you licked
It can't get you crazy no how many
Times you get kicked
You need something special all
You need something special to give you
But hope's just a
That you said or maybe you heard
On windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you 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 sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it ain't in no fat kid's house
And it made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit
With that comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer
And you thinks it's
No you find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper
And sure as you're bound to tell
no matter how hard you rub
You just ain't find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it ain't in the people are sellin' you
And it in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's
And you can't find it on the course
And Uncle can't tell 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 dime store dummies or bubblegum
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake
come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my
Look at my skin shine, at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my cry
you can't even sense if they got any insides
These so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no day
Find it on the doorsteps out-a paper mache?
And inside it the people made of
That every day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star and flipped-out phonies
Who'd yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who and burp and bend and crack
And before you can count one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer
My
The ones that wheel and deal and and twirl
And play with each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent
That run gallant
And make all for the ones that got talent
And it in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
And they're foolin' you
The ones who on the wagon
Just for a while they know it's in style
To get kicks, get out of it quick
And all kinds of rnoney and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be that
Ain't there no one that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here that how I feel
God Almighty
THAT STUFF REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer
You can't hear yer name, you see yer face
You gotta look other place
And where do you for this hope that yer seekin'
Where do you look for 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 is there
And out there
And your feet can walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look through two kinds of
Your nose can smell two kinds of hallways
You can touch and
And turn two kinds of
You can either go to the of your choice
Or you can go to State Hospital
You'll find God in the of your choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State

And though it's my opinion
I may be right or
find them both
In the Canyon
At