Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

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

If the got you sideways with one hand holdin' on
And the other slipping and the feeling is gone
And yer train fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the easy 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 up as down goes 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 are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked and evergreen valleys
Turn to down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's
And the are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole world's and bangin'

And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of
And to you sometimes say
"I never it was gonna be this way
Why didn't they me the day I was born?"

And you start gettin' chills and yer from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer in the air
And the world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and she's gone a-flying
And yer heart feels like fish when they're fryin'

And yer jackhammer falls yer hand to yer feet
And you it badly but it lays on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you hear it's beat
And you yer ears 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' white facing a four flush

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

And something on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody someplace be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you when your layin' in bed
And no how you try you just can't say it
And yer to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to of lead

And the mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws 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 am I doin'
On road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On this I'm hanging
On this I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In air I'm inhaling?

Am I mixed up too much, am I up too hard?
Why am I walking, am I running?
What am I saying, what am I
On this guitar I'm playing, on this 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 words that I'm

In this ocean of hours I'm all the 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
Them kind of thoughts gain
Or make yer pound
But again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop

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

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

You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no
That won't laugh at yer looks, your or your face
And by any number of in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum
You something to open up a new door
To show you you seen before
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
That spot yer standing
That that you're sitting
That the world ain't got you
That it ain't got you
It can't get you crazy no how many
Times you might get

You something special all right
You need something special to give you
But hope's just a word that you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner a wide-angled curve
But what you need 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 dollar

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 house
And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat
And it ain't on that stage
With half-wit comedian on it
and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks funny

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

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

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

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

And you can't find it 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 got any talent but think they do
And think they're 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 rnoney and

And you yell to and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be that!
Ain't there no one here that knows I'm at?
Ain't no one here that knows how I feel?
Good God Almighty that ain't real!

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

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

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