Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows
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 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 engine fire needs a new to catch it
And the wood's findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as goes the day
And tomorrow's seems 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 sun-decked desert and valleys
to broken down slums 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 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 yourself you say
"I knew it was gonna be this way
Why they tell me the day I was born"
And you start chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water yer hands in the air
And the world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're
And yer jackhammer from yer hand to yer feet
And you it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer eyes've turned from the sight-blindin' dirt
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' queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you
in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a machine
And there's something on yer mind you be saying
That somebody someplace be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and in yer head
And it bothers you when your layin' in bed
And no how you try you just can't say it
And yer to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer
And yer pillows of feathers turn to of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his
And his jaws start closin you underneath
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 just what am I
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm
On curve 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, am I running
What am I saying, am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this I'm frailin'
On this I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm
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 soul
Never to think these thoughts and to let
Them kind of thoughts gain
Or make yer heart
But then again you why they're around
Just for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the of yer thinking
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 to stop yer brain from bleeding
And you need special
Yeah, you something special all right
You need a fast flyin' on a tornado track
To you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream howler
That's been and booming and blowing forever
That yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus that bar no race
That won't at yer looks
Your or your face
And by any number of in the book
Will be rollin' after the bubblegum craze
You need 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 that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're
That the ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you
It can't get you crazy no how many
Times you might get
You something special all right
You need something special to you hope
But hope's just a
That maybe you said or you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled

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

"Cause you can't find it on a bill
And it ain't on window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on dimlit stage
that half-wit 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 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 stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors tellin' you
And it ain't in the people are sellin' you
And it in no cardboard-box house
Or down any star's blouse
And you can't it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or 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
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, look at my glow
Look at my laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't sense if they got any insides
people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No not now or no other day
Find it on the made out-a paper mache?
And inside it the people made of
That other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it ain't in the fifty-star and flipped-out phonies
turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
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 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
run around gallant
And make all rules for the ones that got
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think do
And they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the
Just for a while 'cause know it's in style
To get kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you throw yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be that
Ain't there no one here that knows I'm at
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel
Good God
THAT 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 hope yer seekin'
Where do you look for this lamp that's
Where do you look for this oil gushin'
Where do you look for this that's glowin'
do you look for this hope that you know is there
And out there
And your feet can walk down two kinds of roads
Your eyes can only look two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two of hallways
You can and twist
And turn two kinds of
You can go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn Hospital
You'll find God in the church of choice
find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

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