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 behind an' losin' yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl of life's race
No matter what yer if you start givin' up
If the wine don't 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 needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street too long
And you start walkin' backwards though you its wrong
And lonesome comes up as down the day
And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far

And you feel the reins 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 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 world's a-slammin' and bangin'

And yer of sun turn to hours 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 gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't found yet
And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer in the air
And the whole world's a-watchin' a window peek stare
And yer good gal leaves and long gone a-flying
And yer heart feels sick like fish they're fryin'

And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer
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 eyes've turned filthy the sight-blindin' dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterdays
you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush

And all the time you 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 be saying
That someplace oughta be hearin'
But trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
And it bothers you badly when your in bed
And no matter how you try you can't say it
And yer to yer soul you just might forget it
And yer get swimmy from the tears in yer head
And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of

And the lion's opens and yer staring at his teeth
And his jaws start with you underneath
And yer flat on your belly with yer hands behind
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 I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
In this air I'm

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

In this 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 your whole soul best
to think these thoughts and never to let
Them of thoughts gain ground
Or yer heart pound
But then again you know why around
Just waiting for a chance to and drop down

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

You need special, you need something special, all right
You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado
To you someplace and shoot you back
You need a wind on a stream engine howler
That's banging and booming and blowing forever
knows yer troubles a hundred 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 something to open up a new door
To show you something you before
But a hundred times or more
You need something to your eyes

You need something to make it
That it's you and no one that owns
That spot that yer
That space that you're
That the world ain't got you
That it got you licked
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 corner a wide-angled curve
But that's 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 bill

And it on Macy's window sill
And it ain't on no rich kid's map
And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity
And it made in no Hollywood wheat germ
And it on that 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 night club or no yacht
And it ain't in the of a supper club
And sure as hell bound to tell 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 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 it on the golf course
And Uncle Remus tell you and neither can Santa Claus
And it ain't in the puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
And it in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
And it ain't in the noises of the chocolate cake voices
That come knockin' and in Christmas wrappin'

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

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

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

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

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

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

And though it's my opinion
I may be or wrong
find them both
In the Grand at sundown