Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind numb
When you think too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of busy race
No what yer doing if you start givin' up
If the wine come to the top of yer cup
If the got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is
And yer train engine fire a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you its wrong
And comes up as down goes the day
And mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are
And yer sun-decked desert and valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can
And yer sky cries and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and
And yer minutes of sun turn to 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 gettin' and yer jumping from 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 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 fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it on the street
And yer bell's loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled facing a four flush
And all the time you were three queens
And it's makin you mad, makin' you mean
in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a machine
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be
That somebody oughta be hearin'
But it's on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just say it
And yer to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer get swimmy 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 belly with yer tied behind
And you you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to just what am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm
Am I mixed up too much, am I up too hard
Why am I walking, am I running
What am I saying, what am I
On this guitar I'm playing, on this I'm frailin'
On mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm
In the words that I'm
In this ocean of I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
am I giving, what am I taking
But you try with your soul best
Never to think these and never to let
kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then again you know why they're
waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you when the night times comes creeping
And you that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain bleeding
And you something special
Yeah, you something special all right
You need a fast flyin' on a tornado track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you
You need a cyclone wind on a stream howler
That's banging and booming and blowing forever
That yer troubles a hundred times over
You need a Greyhound bus 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' after the bubblegum craze
You need to open 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
That you and no one else that owns
That spot yer standing, that space that you're sitting
the world ain't got you beat
That it got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how
Times you might get
You something special all right
You need special to give you hope
But hope's just a
That maybe you said or you heard
On some windy corner a wide-angled curve

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

"Cause you can't find it on a bill
And it ain't on Macy's window
And it ain't on no rich road map
And it ain't in no fat fraternity house
And it ain't made in no wheat germ
And it ain't on dimlit stage
that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer
And you thinks funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no 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 a-gonna find it on yer ticket
No, and it in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' 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 tell you and neither can Santa
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton clothes
And it ain't in the store dummies or bubblegum goons
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 at my skin
Look at my skin shine, at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, at my skin cry
When you can't sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their 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 other 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 and bend and crack
And before you can count one to ten
Do it all again but this time behind yer back
My
The ones that wheel and deal and and twirl
And play games each other in their sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent
That run around
And make all for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any but think they do
And think foolin' you
The who jump on the wagon
for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all of rnoney and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I be like that
Ain't no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel
Good God
THAT AIN'T REAL"

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

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