Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind numb
you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer
In a slow-motion of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you start up
If the don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one holdin' on
And the other starts and the feeling is gone
And yer train fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome up as down goes the day
And mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can
And yer sky cries water and yer pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops
And yer whole world's and bangin'
And yer of sun turn to hours of storm
And to you sometimes say
"I knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when fryin'
And yer jackhammer from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it but it lays on the street
And yer bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin'
And you figured you failed in yesterdays
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a flush
And all the time you were holdin' three
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you
Like in the of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and 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 to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of
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 never taken that detour sign
And you say to just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm
On curve I'm hanging
On this I'm strolling, in the space 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
am I saying, what am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm
On this I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of hours I'm all the drinkin'
Who am I helping, am I breaking
What am I giving, am I taking
But you try with your whole best
Never to think these and never to let
Them kind of thoughts ground
Or yer heart pound
But again you know why they're around
waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was
And you know that it's something special you're
And you that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need something
Yeah, you need something special all
You a fast 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 banging and booming and blowing
That knows yer a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no
won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or your
And by any number of bets in the
Will be long after the bubblegum craze
You need something to up a new door
To you something you seen before
But a hundred times or more
You need something to open eyes
You need something to it known
it's you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that sitting
That the ain't got you beat
it ain't got you licked
It can't get you no matter how many
you might get kicked
You need something all right
You need special to give you hope
But hope's just a
That maybe you or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled

But what you need man, and you need it bad
And yer is you know 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 in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that stage
With half-wit comedian on it
and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks it's
No you can't it in no night club or no yacht club
And it in the seats of a supper club
And sure as hell bound to tell
That no matter how you rub
You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket
No, and it ain't in the rumors people're you
And it ain't in the people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box
Or down any star's blouse
And you find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Claus
And it ain't in the puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the noises of the chocolate cake voices
That knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, at my skin cry
you can't even sense 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 made paper mache?
And inside it the people made of
every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the generals and flipped-out phonies
turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and and crack
And before you can from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time yer back
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 got any talent but think they do
And think foolin' you
The who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all of rnoney and chicks
And you yell to and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I be like that
Ain't there no one here knows where I'm at
Ain't no one here that knows how I feel
Good God
THAT STUFF REAL"

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

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