Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows
you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer
In a slow-motion of life's busy race
No matter what yer doing if you givin' 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 engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to it
And yer starts curlin' and the street gets too long
And you start walkin' though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down the day
And tomorrow's 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 sun-decked desert and evergreen
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 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 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 jumping sweat
And you're for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
And yer knee-deep in the water with yer hands in the air
And the world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels like fish when they're fryin'

And yer falls from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the
And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't it's beat
And you think yer ears might a hurt
Or yer eyes've turned from the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays
When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four

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

And there's on yer mind you wanna be saying
That somebody oughta be hearin'
But it's trapped on yer tongue and in yer head
And it bothers you badly when layin' in bed
And no how you try you just can't say it
And yer scared to yer you just might forget it
And yer eyes get swimmy from the in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers to blankets of lead

And the lion's mouth and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied
And you you'd never taken that last detour sign
And you say to yourself, "Just am I doin'
On this road I'm walkin', on trail I'm turnin'
On this I'm hanging
On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm
In air I'm inhaling?

Am I up too much, am I mixed up too hard?
Why am I walking, am I running?
am I saying, what 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 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?
am I giving, what am I taking?
But you try your whole soul best
Never to think thoughts and never to let
Them kind of thoughts ground
Or make yer heart
But again you know why they're around
Just waiting for a to slip and drop down

"Cause you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might 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 know that it's something special you're
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 fast flyin' train on a tornado
To shoot you someplace and shoot you
You a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
That's been banging and booming and blowing
That knows yer troubles a times 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 bets in the
Will be rollin' long after the craze
You need something to open up a new
To show you something you seen
But a hundred times or more
You need to open your eyes

You need something to make it
That you and no one else that owns
spot that yer standing
That space that sitting
That the world ain't got you
That it got you licked
It get you crazy no matter how many
you might get kicked

You need special all right
You need special to give you hope
But hope's a word that maybe you said or maybe you heard
On some windy corner 'round a curve
But that's what you man, and you need it bad
And yer trouble is you it too good
"Cause you look an' you start getting the
"Cause you can't find it on a bill

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

No you can't find it in no club or no yacht club
And it in the seats 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 it on yer ticket stub
No, and it ain't in the rumors tellin' you
And it in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
And it ain't in no cardboard-box
Or down any movie star's

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

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

And it in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
Who breathe and burp and bend and
And you can count from one to ten
Do it all over again but this behind yer back, my friend
The ones that wheel and deal and and twirl
And play games with each 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 got talent
And it ain't in the that ain't got any talent but think they do
And think they're you
The who jump on the wagon
for a while 'cause they know it's in style
To get their kicks, get out of it
And make all kinds of rnoney and

And you to yourself and you throw down yer hat
Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be that!
Ain't no one here that knows where 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 even yer
You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer
You gotta look other place
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 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 down two kinds of roads?

Your eyes can only look two kinds of windows
Your nose can only 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 Hospital
You'll find God in the church of your
You'll find Woody Guthrie in State Hospital

And though only my opinion
I may be right or
You'll them both
In the Grand Canyon at