Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer head gets twisted and yer grows numb
you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's race
No matter what yer doing if you start up
If the wine come to the top of yer cup
If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand on
And the other slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to it
And the wood's findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too
And you start walkin' backwards though you know its
And lonesome comes up as down the day
And tomorrow's mornin' so far away
And you feel the reins from yer pony are
And yer rope is a-slidin' yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole a-slammin' and bangin'
And yer minutes of sun turn to of storm
And to yourself you say
"I never it was gonna be this way
Why they tell me the day I was born"
And you gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite 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 leaves and she's gone a-flying
And yer heart sick like fish when they're fryin'
And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer
And you need it badly but it on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't its beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer eyes've turned from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you you failed in yesterdays rush
When you faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
And all the time you holdin' three queens
And makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
in the middle of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And there's something on yer mind you wanna be
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 of feathers turn to blankets of lead
And the lion's mouth opens and yer at his teeth
And his jaws start closin you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied
And you you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to just what am I doin'
On road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm
In air I'm inhaling
Am I mixed up too much, am I up too hard
Why am I walking, am I running
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 song I'm
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm writin'
In the that I'm thinkin'
In this of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
am I giving, what am I taking
But you try your whole soul best
Never to these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or make yer pound
But then again you know why around
Just waiting for a chance to and drop down
"Cause sometimes you when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might 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 was you in the dream that was screaming
And you know that it's something you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the
And no liquor in the land to yer brain from bleeding
And you need something
Yeah, you need special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a track
To you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone on a stream engine 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
voice or your face
And by any number of in the book
Will be rollin' long after the craze
You need something to up a new door
To show you you seen before
But a hundred times or more
You need to open your eyes
You something to make it known
That it's you and no one else that
That spot that yer standing, that space that sitting
That the world ain't got you
it ain't got you licked
It can't get you crazy no how many
you might get kicked
You need special all right
You need something special to give you
But just a word
That you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner a wide-angled curve

But that's you need man, and you need 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 dollar
And it ain't on Macy's sill
And it on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it ain't made in no wheat germ
And it ain't on dimlit stage
With that comedian on it
Ranting and and taking yer money
And you it's funny
No you find it in no night club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a supper
And sure as hell you're 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 people're tellin' you
And it in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box
Or down any movie star's
And you can't find it on the course
And Uncle can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
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
That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas
Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my
at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, at my skin cry
When you even sense 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 ain't in the fifty-star and flipped-out phonies
Who'd 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 over again but this behind yer back
My
The ones wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their world
And you can't find it either in the no-talent
run around gallant
And all rules for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that got any talent but think they do
And think they're you
The ones who on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know in style
To get kicks, get out of it quick
And make all kinds of and chicks
And you yell to and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like
Ain't there no one here that knows I'm at
Ain't no one here that knows how I feel
Good God
THAT STUFF REAL"

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

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