Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head twisted and yer mind 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 givin' up
If the wine don't to the top of yer cup

If the wind's got you with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is
And yer engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you its wrong
And lonesome up as down goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' so far away

And you the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and alleys
And yer sky cries and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's 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 tell me the day I was born?"

And you gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the water with yer hands in the air
And the world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
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 yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't it's beat
And you think yer might a been hurt
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four

And all the time you were holdin' three
And it's makin you mad, it's you mean
Like in the of Life magazine
around a pinball machine

And there's something on yer you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace oughta be
But it's trapped on yer tongue and 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 scared to yer you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer
And yer pillows of feathers turn to of lead

And the mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself, "Just what am I
On road 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 up too much, am I mixed 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 mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm thinkin'
In the words I'm writing

In this ocean of hours I'm all the drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
What am I giving, what am I
But you try your whole soul best
Never to think thoughts and never to let
Them of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer pound
But then again you know why they're
Just waiting for a to slip and drop down

"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you
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 that was screaming
And you know that it's something special needin'
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the
And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain bleeding

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

You need a Greyhound bus that bar no race
won't laugh at yer looks, your voice or your face
And by any of bets in the book
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 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
That space that you're
the world ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you
It can't get you crazy no matter how
you might get kicked

You need special all right
You need something to give you hope
But hope's just a that maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner a wide-angled 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 getting 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 kid's house
And it ain't in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit
With half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and taking yer
And you thinks funny

No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht
And it ain't in the seats of a supper
And sure as you're bound to tell that no matter how hard you rub
You just a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
No, and it in the rumors people're tellin' you
And it in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no house
Or down any movie star's

And you find it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton clothes
And it ain't in the dime store dummies or goons
And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the cake voices
That come knockin' and tappin' in wrappin'

"Ain't I pretty and ain't I cute?
Look at my
at my skin 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 you'll not now or no day
Find it on the doorsteps made paper mache?
And it the people made of molasses
That every day buy a new pair of sunglasses

And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and phonies
Who'd yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and
And before you can count one to ten
Do it all over again but this behind yer back, my friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and
And play games with each other in their world

And you can't find it either in the no-talent
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 think foolin' you
The ones who jump on the
Just for a while 'cause know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all of rnoney and chicks

And you to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I be like that!
Ain't there no one that knows where I'm at?
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel?
Good God Almighty that 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 gotta some other place
And where do you look for this that yer seekin'?
Where do you look for lamp that's a-burnin'?
Where do you look for this oil gushin'?
Where do you look for this that's glowin'?
Where do you look for hope that you know is there
And out somewhere
And feet can only walk down two kinds of roads?

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

And though only my opinion
I may be right or
You'll find them
In the Grand Canyon at