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' behind an' losin' yer
In a slow-motion crawl of busy 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 with one hand holdin' on
And the other starts slipping and the feeling is
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' backwards you know its wrong
And lonesome up as down goes the day
And mornin' seems so far away

And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down and trash-can alleys
And yer sky water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
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 turn to of storm
And to yourself you say
"I never knew it was be this way
Why didn't tell me the day I was born?"

And you start gettin' chills and yer 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 and she's long gone a-flying
And yer feels sick like fish when they're fryin'

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

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

And there's something on yer you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace 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 just say it
And yer scared to yer soul you might forget it
And yer eyes get from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of

And the lion's opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start closin with you
And yer on your belly with yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken that last sign
And you say to yourself, "Just what am I
On road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On this 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, am I running?
What am I saying, am I knowing?
On this guitar I'm playing, on 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 of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, am I breaking?
am I giving, what am I taking?
But you try your whole soul best
Never to think these thoughts and to let
kind of thoughts gain ground
Or make yer pound
But then you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop

"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the times comes creeping
And you that they might catch you a-sleeping
And you jump from yer bed, from yer last of dreamin'
And you remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the that was screaming
And you know that it's something special you're
And you know that there's no drug do for the healin'
And no liquor in the land to yer brain from bleeding

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

You need a Greyhound bus don't bar no race
That won't laugh at yer looks, your voice or face
And by any of bets in the book
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 need to open your eyes

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

You need something all right
You need something special to give you
But hope's just a word that maybe you said or you heard
On some windy 'round a wide-angled curve
But that's you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you know it too
"Cause you look an' you start the chills
"Cause you find it on a dollar bill

And it ain't on Macy's window
And it on no rich kid's road map
And it in no fat kid's fraternity house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood germ
And it ain't on that dimlit
With that half-wit on it
Ranting and and taking yer money
And you thinks it's

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

And you can't find it on the course
And Uncle Remus tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy
And it ain't in the store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'

"Ain't I pretty and ain't I cute?
Look at my
Look at my shine, look at my skin glow
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 you'll not now or no day
Find it on the doorsteps out-a paper mache?
And inside it the people made of
That every other day buy a new pair of

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

And you can't it either in the no-talent fools
That run around gallant and make all rules for the ones that got
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 'cause 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 down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be that!
Ain't there no one here that where I'm at?
Ain't no one here that knows how I feel?
Good God Almighty that ain't real!

No but that 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 where do you look for this hope that yer
Where do you look for this that's a-burnin'?
Where do you look for this oil gushin'?
Where do you for this candle that's glowin'?
Where do you look for this hope that you is there
And out somewhere
And feet can only walk down two kinds of roads?

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