Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer gets twisted and yer mind 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 busy race
No matter what yer doing if you givin' up
If the don't come to the top of yer cup

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

And you feel the from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are
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 windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof a-shakin'
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and

And yer minutes of sun turn to of storm
And to you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be way
Why they 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 dark water 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 but it lays on the street
And yer bell's loudly but you can't hear it's beat
And you think yer ears might a been
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the dirt
And you figured you in yesterdays rush
When you were faked out an' fooled white a four flush

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

And there's on yer mind you wanna be saying
That someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your in bed
And no matter how you try you can't say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just 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 start closin with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied
And you wish never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself, "Just what am I
On this road I'm walkin', on this I'm turnin'
On this curve I'm
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the I'm taking
In air I'm inhaling?

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

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

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

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

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

You need something to it known
That it's you and no one that owns
That that 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 special all
You something special to give you hope
But hope's just a word that maybe you or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled
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 find it on a bill

And it ain't on window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat
And it on that dimlit stage
With half-wit comedian on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you it's funny

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

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

Sayin' "Ain't I pretty and I cute?
at my skin
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin
Look at my laugh, look at my skin cry"
When you even sense if they got any insides
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 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 and burp and bend and crack
And before you can from one to ten
Do it all over but this time behind yer back, my friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and
And games with each other in their sand-box world

And you find it either in the no-talent fools
run around gallant and make all rules 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 on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know 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 here that knows I'm at?
Ain't there no one that knows how I feel?
Good God Almighty stuff ain't real!

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't yer race
You hear yer name, you can't see yer face
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'?
do you look for this oil well gushin'?
Where do you for this candle that's glowin'?
Where do you for this hope that you know is there
And out somewhere
And your feet can only walk down two of roads?

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

And though it's only my
I may be or wrong
You'll find both
In the Grand at sundown