Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets and yer mind grows numb
you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion of life's busy race
No matter what yer if you start givin' up
If the don't come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you with with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down the day
And mornin' seems so far away
And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer rope is 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and valleys
Turn to broken slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof a-shakin'
And yer world's a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun to hours of storm
And to you sometimes say
"I never it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they me the day I was born"
And you start chills and yer jumping from sweat
And lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're
And yer falls 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 been
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin'
And you you failed in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' white facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' queens
And makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
Like in the middle of magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly 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 get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer at his teeth
And his jaws start with you underneath
And yer flat on your with yer hands tied behind
And you you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself just what am I
On this road I'm walkin', on trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On this I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I up too hard
Why am I walking, where am I
What am I saying, am I knowing
On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm writin'
In the words that I'm
In ocean of hours 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 best
Never to think these and never to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or make yer pound
But then you know why they're around
Just for a chance to slip and drop down
"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes
And you fear that might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you can't remember for the of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream was screaming
And you know it's something special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to yer brain from bleeding
And you need special
Yeah, you need something special all
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado
To shoot you someplace and you back
You need a cyclone on a stream engine howler
been banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a times over
You need a 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' after the bubblegum craze
You need to open up a new door
To show you something you before
But overlooked a hundred times or
You need something to your eyes
You need something to it known
That you and no one else that owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're
That the world got you beat
That it ain't got you
It get you crazy no matter 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 or maybe you heard
On some corner 'round a wide-angled curve

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

"Cause you can't find it on a bill
And it ain't on window sill
And it on no rich kid's road 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
With half-wit comedian on it
and raving and taking yer money
And you it's funny
No you can't find it in no club or no yacht 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 find it on yer ticket 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 movie blouse
And you can't find it on the course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Claus
And it ain't in the cream hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it ain't in the dime store or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake
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
When you can't sense if they got any insides
These so pretty in their ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no day
it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache?
And inside it the people of molasses
That every other day buy a new 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 bend and
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all again but this time behind yer back
My
The that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with other in their 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 ones that ain't got any talent but think do
And think foolin' you
The who jump on the wagon
for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get kicks, get out of it quick
And all kinds of rnoney and chicks
And you yell to yourself and you down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I be like that
there no one here that knows where I'm at
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel
Good God
THAT STUFF REAL"

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

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