Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets and yer mind grows numb
When you you're too old, too young, too smart 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 don't come to the top of yer cup

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

And you the reins from yer pony are slippin'
And yer rope is 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen
Turn to down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's and the thunder's a-crashin'
And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops
And yer whole world's a-slammin' and

And yer minutes of sun to hours of storm
And to yourself you say
"I knew it was gonna be this way
Why they tell me the day I was born?"

And you start gettin' and yer jumping 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 whole a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer gal leaves 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 badly but it on the street
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't it's beat
And you think yer ears might a been
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 middle of magazine
Bouncin' around a machine

And there's something on yer mind you be saying
That someplace oughta be hearin'
But it's on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you when your layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just say it
And yer scared to yer you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to of lead

And the lion's mouth opens and yer 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 detour
And you say to yourself, "Just what am I
On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm
On curve I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the I'm taking
In this air I'm

Am I mixed up too much, am I up too hard?
Why am I walking, am I running?
am I saying, what am I knowing?
On this I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
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 that I'm

In this of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
What am I giving, am I taking?
But you try your whole soul best
Never to these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then you know why they're around
Just for a chance to slip and drop down

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

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

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

You need to make it known
That it's you and no one else that
That that yer standing
space that you're sitting
That the ain't got you beat
That it ain't got you
It get you crazy no matter how many
Times you get kicked

You need something special all
You need something special to give you
But hope's just a word that maybe you or maybe 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 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 on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it ain't in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that stage
With half-wit comedian on it
and raving and taking yer money
And you it's funny

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

And you can't find it on the golf
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and can Santa Claus
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 ain't in the marshmallow noises of the cake voices
That come and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'

Sayin' "Ain't I and ain't I cute?
Look at my
Look at my skin shine, at my skin glow
Look at my skin laugh, look at my cry"
When you even sense if they got any insides
These people so pretty in ribbons and bows
No you'll not now or no 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 generals and flipped-out
Who'd turn yuh in for a of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all again but this time behind yer back, my friend
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and
And play games each other in their sand-box world

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

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

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

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