Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets twisted and yer grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too or too dumb
yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's race
No matter yer doing if you start givin' up
If the don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand on
And the other slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new to catch it
And the wood's findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' though you know its wrong
And lonesome up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' so far away
And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are and breakin' and the roof tops 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 gonna be way
Why they tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark with yer hands in the air
And the world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart 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 can't its beat
And you think yer ears might a hurt
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in rush
you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you were three queens
And makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' a pinball machine
And there's something on yer mind you be saying
That somebody oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your in bed
And no how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands behind
And you wish you'd taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself what am I doin'
On road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this I'm hanging
On pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
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 I'm playing, on this banjo 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 words I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
What am I giving, what am I
But you try with your whole soul
Never to think these and never to let
Them kind of thoughts ground
Or yer heart pound
But then you know why they're around
Just waiting for a to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you when 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 was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that something special you're needin'
And you that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain bleeding
And you need special
Yeah, you something special all right
You a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine
That's banging and booming and blowing forever
That yer troubles a hundred times over
You a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't at yer looks
Your or your face
And by any of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum
You need something to open up a new
To show you something you seen
But overlooked a hundred or more
You need to open your eyes
You need something to make it
That it's you and no one else that
That spot that yer standing, that space you're sitting
That the world ain't got you
it ain't got you licked
It get you crazy no matter how many
you might get kicked
You need something all right
You need something special to you hope
But just a word
That maybe you said or maybe you
On some windy 'round a wide-angled curve

But what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer is you know it too good
"Cause you look an' you start the chills

"Cause you find it on a dollar bill
And it on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich road 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 stage
With that half-wit on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you it's funny
No you can't it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a club
And sure as you're bound to tell
That no matter how you rub
You ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are you
And it in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie star's
And you can't find it on the golf
And Uncle Remus can't you and neither can Santa Claus
And it in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate voices
That come and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I 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 sense if they got any
These people so pretty in their and bows
No not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper
And inside it the made of molasses
That every day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a
Who breathe and burp and and crack
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time behind yer
My
The ones that and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with other in their sand-box world
And you can't it either in the no-talent fools
That run around
And make all rules for the that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but they do
And think they're you
The ones who on the wagon
Just for a 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all kinds of and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like
Ain't there no one that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one here knows how I feel
God Almighty
THAT AIN'T REAL"

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

And though it's only my
I may be right or
You'll find them
In the Grand
At