Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer grows numb
When you think you're too old, too young, too or too dumb
When yer laggin' an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy
No matter what yer if you start givin' up
If the wine come to the top of yer cup

If the wind's got you sideways with one hand on
And the starts slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to 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' though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far

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 evergreen
Turn to broken down slums and alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops
And yer world's a-slammin' and bangin'

And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of
And to yourself you say
"I never knew it was gonna be way
Why didn't 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 knee-deep in the dark water with yer in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone
And yer heart feels sick like fish when fryin'

And yer jackhammer falls yer hand to yer feet
And you need it but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear beat
And you think yer ears a been hurt
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays
When you were out an' fooled white facing a four flush

And all the time you were three queens
And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you
Like in the middle of magazine
Bouncin' around a pinball

And there's on yer mind 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 matter how you try you can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you might forget it
And yer get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of 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 hands behind
And you wish you'd taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself, "Just am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on trail I'm turnin'
On curve I'm hanging
On pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm

Am I up too much, am I mixed up too hard?
Why am I walking, where am I
What am I saying, what am I
On guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
On this I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm thinkin'
In the words that I'm

In this ocean of I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, am I breaking?
What am I giving, am I taking?
But you try with your soul best
Never to think thoughts and never to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or yer heart pound
But then again you why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to and drop down

"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of
And you can't remember for the best of yer
If that was you in the dream was screaming
And you know that it's something you're needin'
And you know there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to stop yer from bleeding

You need special, you need something special, all right
You need a fast flyin' on a tornado track
To shoot you and shoot you back
You need a wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing
That knows yer troubles a hundred over

You a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
That won't at yer looks, your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum
You need something to open up a new
To show you something you before
But a hundred times or more
You need to open your eyes

You need to make it known
it's you and no one else that owns
That spot yer standing
space that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you
That it got you licked
It can't get you no matter how many
Times you might get

You need something all right
You need something special to give you
But hope's just a word maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a curve
But that's what you man, and you need it bad
And yer is you know 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 window sill
And it ain't on no rich road map
And it in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it on that dimlit stage
With that half-wit on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you thinks funny

No you can't find it in no club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the seats of a club
And sure as hell you're bound to tell that no 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 pimple-lotion are sellin' you
And it in no cardboard-box house
Or down any movie blouse

And you find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus 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 and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'

Sayin' "Ain't I and ain't I cute?
at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin
Look at my skin laugh, at my skin cry"
you can't even sense if they got any insides
These people so in their ribbons and bows
No not now or no other day
Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper
And inside it the people made of
That every other day buy a new pair of

And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out
Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a
Who breathe and and bend and crack
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time yer back, my friend
The ones that wheel and deal and and twirl
And play games with each other in their world

And you can't it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant and make all for the ones that got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but they do
And they're foolin' you
The who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in
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!
Ain't there no one here that where I'm at?
there no one here that knows how I feel?
Good God that stuff ain't real!

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer
You look some other place
And where do you look for this hope yer seekin'?
Where do you look for this that's a-burnin'?
Where do you look for oil well gushin'?
Where do you for this candle that's glowin'?
Where do you look for hope that you know is there
And out there
And your feet can walk down two kinds of roads?

eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
Your nose can only smell two of hallways
You can touch and twist and turn two kinds of
You can either go to the of your choice
Or you can go to Brooklyn Hospital
You'll find God in the of your choice
find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And it's only my opinion
I may be right or
You'll them both
In the Canyon at sundown