Luyện nghe bài hát Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

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

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

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

And yer minutes of sun turn to of storm
And to yourself you say
"I never knew it was gonna be 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 somethin' you quite found yet
And yer in the dark water with yer hands in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek
And yer good gal leaves and she's long a-flying
And yer feels sick like fish when they're fryin'

And yer jackhammer from yer hand to yer feet
And you need it badly but it on the street
And yer bell's loudly but you can't hear it's beat
And you think yer ears a been hurt
Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin'
And you you failed in yesterdays rush
When you faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush

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

And there's something on yer mind you wanna be
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 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 of feathers turn to blankets of lead

And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his
And his jaws start closin you underneath
And yer flat on your belly yer hands tied behind
And you wish you'd never taken last detour sign
And you say to yourself, "Just what am I
On this I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
On curve I'm hanging
On pathway I'm strolling, in the space 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 this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm
On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the I'm singin'
In the tune I'm hummin', in the I'm thinkin'
In the words that I'm

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 with whole soul best
to think these thoughts and never to let
Them kind of gain ground
Or make yer heart
But then again you know why around
Just waiting for a chance to slip and down

"Cause you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
And you fear that they might catch you
And you jump yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
And you remember for the best 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 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 you someplace and shoot you back
You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine
That's banging and booming and blowing forever
That knows yer troubles a hundred over

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

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

You something special all right
You need something to give you hope
But hope's just a word that you said 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 know it too
"Cause you look an' you getting the chills
"Cause you can't find it on a dollar

And it on Macy's window sill
And it on no rich kid's road map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it ain't on that dimlit
With that comedian on it
and raving and taking yer money
And you thinks funny

No you can't find it in no night club or no 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 find it on yer ticket
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 down any movie blouse

And you can't it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Claus
And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or candy clothes
And it in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it in the marshmallow noises 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, look at my skin
Look at my laugh, look at my skin cry"
When you can't even sense if got any insides
These people so pretty in their and bows
No you'll not now or no day
Find it on the made out-a paper mache?
And inside it the people made of
That every day buy a new pair of sunglasses

And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and phonies
Who'd turn yuh in for a of a penny
Who and burp and bend and crack
And before you can from one to ten
Do it all over again but this time 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 either in the fools
That run around gallant and make all rules for the ones got talent
And it ain't in the ones ain't got any talent but think they do
And think foolin' you
The who jump on the wagon
Just for a while 'cause they know it's in
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 gotta be that!
Ain't there no one here that where I'm at?
Ain't there no one here that how I feel?
Good God Almighty that stuff real!

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

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

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