Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Gutherie

When yer gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
When you think too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy
No matter 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 starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to it
And the easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the gets too long
And you walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
And lonesome up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far
And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen
to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and
And yer minutes of sun 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 gettin' chills and yer jumping from
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't found yet
And yer in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek
And yer gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick 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 bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer eyes've turned filthy the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in rush
When you were faked out an' fooled facing a four flush
And all the time you were holdin' three
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you
Like in the of Life magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball
And there's something on yer you wanna be saying
somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and in yer head
And it you badly when your layin' in bed
And no how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer 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 opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you
And yer flat on your belly with yer tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last sign
And you say to just what am I doin'
On this I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm
In this air I'm
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 banjo I'm frailin'
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm
In the that I'm thinkin'
In this ocean of 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 soul
to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts gain
Or make yer heart
But then again you know why around
Just waiting for a chance to and drop down
"Cause you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last 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 special you're needin'
And you know that there's no drug do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from
And you need something
Yeah, you need special all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a track
To shoot you someplace and shoot you
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine
That's been banging and booming and forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred over
You a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
won't laugh at yer looks
Your voice or face
And by any number of bets in the
Will be rollin' long after the craze
You need something to up a new door
To show you something you seen
But a hundred times or more
You something to open your eyes
You need something to it known
That it's you and no one else owns
That spot that yer standing, that space that you're
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 something special all right
You something special to give you hope
But just a word
That maybe you said or you heard
On windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

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 it on a dollar 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 in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that stage
that half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you it's funny
No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht
And it in the seats of a supper club
And sure as you're bound to tell
That no 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 in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no house
Or any movie star's blouse
And you can't find it on the golf
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or candy clothes
And it ain't in the store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
Sayin' ain't I and ain't I cute and look at my skin
Look at my shine, look at my skin glow
Look at my laugh, look at my skin cry
When you can't even sense if they got any
These people so pretty in their and bows
No not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper
And it the people made of molasses
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 burp and and crack
And before you can from one to ten
Do it all again but this time behind yer back
My
The ones that and deal and whirl and twirl
And play games with each other in their sand-box
And you can't find it in the no-talent fools
That run gallant
And make all rules for the that got talent
And it ain't in the ones ain't got any talent but think they do
And think foolin' you
The ones who jump on the
Just for a while they 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 like
Ain't there no one here that where I'm at
there no one here 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 look some other place
And where do you look for hope that yer seekin'
Where do you for this lamp that's a-burnin'
Where do you for this oil well gushin'
Where do you look for this candle glowin'
Where do you look for hope that you know is there
And out somewhere
And your feet can only down two kinds of roads
Your can only look through two kinds of windows
nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
You can and twist
And two kinds of doorknobs
You can go to the church of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn State
You'll find God in the church of choice
You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn Hospital

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