Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head twisted and yer mind 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 of life's busy 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 holdin' on
And the starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train fire needs 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 yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is 'cause 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 rattlin' and and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun to hours of storm
And to yourself you say
"I knew it was gonna be this way
Why didn't tell me the day I was born"
And you start gettin' chills and yer 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 good gal leaves and long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish they're fryin'
And yer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it on the street
And yer bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the dirt
And you figured you failed in rush
When you were faked out an' white facing a four flush
And all the you were holdin' three queens
And it's makin you mad, 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 someplace be hearin'
But trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it you badly when your 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 eyes get swimmy from the in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers to blankets of lead
And the mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you
And yer flat on your belly yer hands tied 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 I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm
In this air I'm
Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too
Why am I walking, where am I
What am I saying, am I knowing
On guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
In the words that I'm
In this of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, am I breaking
What am I giving, am I taking
But you try with whole soul best
Never to these thoughts and never to let
Them of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer pound
But then you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times creeping
And you fear they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer chapter of dreamin'
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 know that there's no that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from
And you need something
Yeah, you need something special all
You a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
To you someplace and shoot you back
You a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and and blowing forever
knows yer troubles a hundred times over
You a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer
Your voice or your
And by any number of bets in the
Will be rollin' long the bubblegum craze
You need something to up a new door
To you something you seen before
But overlooked a hundred or more
You need to open your eyes
You need to make it known
That it's you and no one that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space you're sitting
That the ain't got you beat
it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no matter how
Times you get kicked
You need something special all
You need something special to you hope
But hope's a word
That maybe you said or you heard
On windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

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

"Cause you can't find it on a dollar
And it ain't on Macy's window
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it ain't in no fat kid's house
And it ain't made in no wheat germ
And it ain't on that stage
With that comedian on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you thinks it's
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 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 tellin' you
And it in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box
Or down any star's blouse
And you can't it on the golf course
And Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream hair-do or cotton candy 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
at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my cry
When you can't even if they got any insides
These people so pretty in their and bows
No not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a mache?
And inside it the people made of
every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
And it in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a of a penny
Who breathe and burp and and crack
And before you can count one to ten
Do it all over again but time behind yer back
My
The ones that wheel and and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in sand-box world
And you can't find it either in the fools
That run around
And make all for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think foolin' you
The ones who on the wagon
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 to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I be like that
Ain't there no one here that knows I'm at
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel
God Almighty
THAT AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer
You can't yer name, you can't see yer face
You gotta look some 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 oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle that's
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 through two kinds of windows
Your nose can smell two kinds of hallways
You can and twist
And turn two kinds of
You can either go to the church of choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn Hospital
find God in the church of your choice
You'll Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

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