Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind numb
you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of busy race
No matter yer doing if you start 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 is gone
And yer train engine fire a new spark to catch 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 comes up as goes the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far

And you feel the reins from yer are slippin'
And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer are a-drippin'
And yer sun-decked desert and valleys
to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And yer sky water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
And the lightnin's a-flashing and the a-crashin'
And the windows are and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
And yer whole a-slammin' and bangin'

And yer minutes of sun to hours of storm
And to yourself you 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 jumping sweat
And you're lookin' for you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the water with yer hands 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 falls from yer hand 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 think yer ears might a hurt
Or yer turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays
When you were faked out an' white facing a four flush

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

And there's something on yer mind you wanna be
That somebody someplace be hearin'
But it's on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when layin' in bed
And no matter how you try you just say it
And yer scared to yer soul you just might 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 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 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 up too much, am I mixed up too hard?
Why am I walking, am I running?
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 tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm
In the words I'm writing

In ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
Who am I helping, what am I
What am I giving, what am I
But you try with your whole soul
Never to think these thoughts and to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then you know why they're around
Just waiting for a 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 from yer bed, yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you remember for the best of yer thinking
If that was you in the dream that was
And you know that it's something special you're
And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the
And no liquor in the to stop yer brain from bleeding

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

You need a Greyhound bus that bar no race
That laugh at yer looks, your voice or your face
And by any number of in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum
You need something to up a new door
To you something you seen before
But a hundred times or more
You need to open your eyes

You something to make it known
That it's you and no one else owns
spot that yer standing
That space that you're
the world ain't got you beat
That it got you licked
It can't get you crazy no how many
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 maybe you
On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled
But that's you need man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you it too good
"Cause you an' you start getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a bill

And it ain't on Macy's window
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 wheat germ
And it ain't on dimlit stage
With that half-wit on it
Ranting and raving and yer money
And you it's funny

No you can't find it in no club or no yacht club
And it ain't in the of a supper 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 ain't in the rumors tellin' you
And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are you
And it ain't in no house
Or down any star's blouse

And you can't it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa
And it ain't in the cream 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 chocolate voices
That knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'

Sayin' "Ain't I and ain't I cute?
Look at my
Look at my skin shine, look at my skin
Look at my skin laugh, at my skin cry"
When you even sense if they got any insides
These people so 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 every other day buy a new pair of

And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and phonies
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 again but this time behind yer back, my
The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and
And play games with each in their sand-box world

And you can't find it either in the no-talent
That run around gallant and make all rules for the ones got talent
And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but they do
And they're foolin' you
The ones who jump on the
Just for a while 'cause they know in style
To get kicks, get out of it quick
And all kinds of rnoney and chicks

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

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

And though only my opinion
I may be right or
find them both
In the Canyon at sundown