Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie Lyrics

Song	Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie
Artist	Bob Dylan
Album	The Bootleg Series, Vols. 1-3 (Rare & Unreleased) 1961-1991
Download	Image LRC TXT

	Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie

	Boby Dylan

	When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
	When you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
	When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
	In a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race
	No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
	If the wine don't come to the top of yer cup
	If the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
	And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
	And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
	And the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
	And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
	And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
	And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
	And tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away
	And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
	And yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'
	And yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
	Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
	And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'
	And the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'
	And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'
	And yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'
	And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
	And to yourself you sometimes say
	"I never knew it was gonna be this way
	Why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
	And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
	And you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet
	And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
	And the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
	And yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying
	And yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'
	And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
	And you need it badly but it lays on the street
	And yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat
	And you think yer ears might a been hurt
	Or yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt
	And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
	When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
	And all the time you were holdin' three queens
	And it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean
	Like in the middle of Life magazine
	Bouncin' around a pinball machine
	And there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying
	That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
	But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
	And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
	And no matter how you try you just can't say it
	And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
	And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
	And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
	And the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
	And his jaws start closin with you underneath
	And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
	And you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign
	And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
	On this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'
	On this curve I'm hanging
	On this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking
	In this air I'm inhaling
	Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
	Why am I walking, where am I running
	What am I saying, what am I knowing
	On this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'
	On this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'
	In the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'
	In the words that I'm thinkin'
	In this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'
	Who am I helping, what am I breaking
	What am I giving, what am I taking
	But you try with your whole soul best
	Never to think these thoughts and never to let
	Them kind of thoughts gain ground
	Or make yer heart pound
	But then again you know why they're around
	Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
	"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping
	And you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping
	And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
	And you can't remember for the best of yer thinking
	If that was you in the dream that was screaming
	And you know that it's something special you're needin'
	And you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'
	And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
	And you need something special
	Yeah, you need something special all right
	You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
	To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
	You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
	That's been banging and booming and blowing forever
	That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
	You need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race
	That won't laugh at yer looks
	Your voice or your face
	And by any number of bets in the book
	Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
	You need something to open up a new door
	To show you something you seen before
	But overlooked a hundred times or more
	You need something to open your eyes
	You need something to make it known
	That it's you and no one else that owns
	That spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting
	That the world ain't got you beat
	That it ain't got you licked
	It can't get you crazy no matter how many
	Times you might get kicked
	You need something special all right
	You need something special to give you hope
	But hope's just a word
	That maybe you said or maybe you heard
	On some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

	But that's what you need man, and you need it bad
	And yer trouble is you know it too good
	"Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

	"Cause you can't find it on a dollar bill
	And it ain't on Macy's window sill
	And it ain't on no rich kid's road map
	And it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house
	And it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ
	And it ain't on that dimlit stage
	With that half-wit comedian on it
	Ranting and raving and taking yer money
	And you thinks it's funny
	No you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club
	And it ain't in the seats of a supper club
	And sure as hell you're bound to tell
	That no matter how hard you rub
	You just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub
	No, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you
	And it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you
	And it ain't in no cardboard-box house
	Or down any movie star's blouse
	And you can't find it on the golf course
	And Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus
	And it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes
	And it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
	And it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
	That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
	Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin
	Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
	Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
	When you can't even sense if they got any insides
	These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
	No you'll not now or no other day
	Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache�
	And inside it the people made of molasses
	That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
	And it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies
	Who'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
	Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
	And before you can count from one to ten
	Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
	My friend
	The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
	And play games with each other in their sand-box world
	And you can't find it either in the no-talent fools
	That run around gallant
	And make all rules for the ones that got talent
	And it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do
	And think they're foolin' you
	The ones who jump on the wagon
	Just for a while 'cause they know it's in style
	To get their kicks, get out of it quick
	And make all kinds of money and chicks
	And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
	Sayin', "Christ do I gotta be like that
	Ain't there no one here that knows where I'm at
	Ain't there no one here that knows how I feel
	Good God Almighty
	THAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

	No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race
	You can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face
	You gotta look some other place
	And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
	Where do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'
	Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
	Where do you look for this candle that's glowin'
	Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
	And out there somewhere
	And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
	Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
	Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
	You can touch and twist
	And turn two kinds of doorknobs
	You can either go to the church of your choice
	Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
	You'll find God in the church of your choice
	You'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

	And though it's only my opinion
	I may be right or wrong
	You'll find them both
	In the Grand Canyon
	At sundown

	Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie

	Boby Dylan

	When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
	When you think you' re too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
	When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
	In a slowmotion crawl of life' s busy race
	No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
	If the wine don' t come to the top of yer cup
	If the wind' s got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
	And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
	And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
	And the wood' s easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
	And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
	And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
	And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
	And tomorrow' s mornin' seems so far away
	And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
	And yer rope is aslidin' ' cause yer hands are adrippin'
	And yer sundecked desert and evergreen valleys
	Turn to broken down slums and trashcan alleys
	And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe' s apourin'
	And the lightnin' s aflashing and the thunder' s acrashin'
	And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops ashakin'
	And yer whole world' s aslammin' and bangin'
	And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
	And to yourself you sometimes say
	" I never knew it was gonna be this way
	Why didn' t they tell me the day I was born"
	And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
	And you' re lookin' for somethin' you ain' t quite found yet
	And yer kneedeep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
	And the whole world' s awatchin' with a window peek stare
	And yer good gal leaves and she' s long gone aflying
	And yer heart feels sick like fish when they' re fryin'
	And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
	And you need it badly but it lays on the street
	And yer bell' s bangin' loudly but you can' t hear its beat
	And you think yer ears might a been hurt
	Or yer eyes' ve turned filthy from the sightblindin' dirt
	And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
	When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
	And all the time you were holdin' three queens
	And it' s makin you mad, it' s makin' you mean
	Like in the middle of Life magazine
	Bouncin' around a pinball machine
	And there' s something on yer mind you wanna be saying
	That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
	But it' s trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
	And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
	And no matter how you try you just can' t say it
	And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
	And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
	And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
	And the lion' s mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
	And his jaws start closin with you underneath
	And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
	And you wish you' d never taken that last detour sign
	And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
	On this road I' m walkin', on this trail I' m turnin'
	On this curve I' m hanging
	On this pathway I' m strolling, in the space I' m taking
	In this air I' m inhaling
	Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
	Why am I walking, where am I running
	What am I saying, what am I knowing
	On this guitar I' m playing, on this banjo I' m frailin'
	On this mandolin I' m strummin', in the song I' m singin'
	In the tune I' m hummin', in the words I' m writin'
	In the words that I' m thinkin'
	In this ocean of hours I' m all the time drinkin'
	Who am I helping, what am I breaking
	What am I giving, what am I taking
	But you try with your whole soul best
	Never to think these thoughts and never to let
	Them kind of thoughts gain ground
	Or make yer heart pound
	But then again you know why they' re around
	Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
	" Cause sometimes you hear' em when the night times comes creeping
	And you fear that they might catch you asleeping
	And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
	And you can' t remember for the best of yer thinking
	If that was you in the dream that was screaming
	And you know that it' s something special you' re needin'
	And you know that there' s no drug that' ll do for the healin'
	And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
	And you need something special
	Yeah, you need something special all right
	You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
	To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
	You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
	That' s been banging and booming and blowing forever
	That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
	You need a Greyhound bus that don' t bar no race
	That won' t laugh at yer looks
	Your voice or your face
	And by any number of bets in the book
	Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
	You need something to open up a new door
	To show you something you seen before
	But overlooked a hundred times or more
	You need something to open your eyes
	You need something to make it known
	That it' s you and no one else that owns
	That spot that yer standing, that space that you' re sitting
	That the world ain' t got you beat
	That it ain' t got you licked
	It can' t get you crazy no matter how many
	Times you might get kicked
	You need something special all right
	You need something special to give you hope
	But hope' s just a word
	That maybe you said or maybe you heard
	On some windy corner ' round a wideangled curve

	But that' s what you need man, and you need it bad
	And yer trouble is you know it too good
	" Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

	" Cause you can' t find it on a dollar bill
	And it ain' t on Macy' s window sill
	And it ain' t on no rich kid' s road map
	And it ain' t in no fat kid' s fraternity house
	And it ain' t made in no Hollywood wheat germ
	And it ain' t on that dimlit stage
	With that halfwit comedian on it
	Ranting and raving and taking yer money
	And you thinks it' s funny
	No you can' t find it in no night club or no yacht club
	And it ain' t in the seats of a supper club
	And sure as hell you' re bound to tell
	That no matter how hard you rub
	You just ain' t agonna find it on yer ticket stub
	No, and it ain' t in the rumors people' re tellin' you
	And it ain' t in the pimplelotion people are sellin' you
	And it ain' t in no cardboardbox house
	Or down any movie star' s blouse
	And you can' t find it on the golf course
	And Uncle Remus can' t tell you and neither can Santa Claus
	And it ain' t in the cream puff hairdo or cotton candy clothes
	And it ain' t in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
	And it ain' t in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
	That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
	Sayin' ain' t I pretty and ain' t I cute and look at my skin
	Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
	Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
	When you can' t even sense if they got any insides
	These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
	No you' ll not now or no other day
	Find it on the doorsteps made outa paper mache
	And inside it the people made of molasses
	That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
	And it ain' t in the fiftystar generals and flippedout phonies
	Who' d turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
	Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
	And before you can count from one to ten
	Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
	My friend
	The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
	And play games with each other in their sandbox world
	And you can' t find it either in the notalent fools
	That run around gallant
	And make all rules for the ones that got talent
	And it ain' t in the ones that ain' t got any talent but think they do
	And think they' re foolin' you
	The ones who jump on the wagon
	Just for a while ' cause they know it' s in style
	To get their kicks, get out of it quick
	And make all kinds of money and chicks
	And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
	Sayin', " Christ do I gotta be like that
	Ain' t there no one here that knows where I' m at
	Ain' t there no one here that knows how I feel
	Good God Almighty
	THAT STUFF AIN' T REAL"

	No but that ain' t yer game, it ain' t even yer race
	You can' t hear yer name, you can' t see yer face
	You gotta look some other place
	And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
	Where do you look for this lamp that' s aburnin'
	Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
	Where do you look for this candle that' s glowin'
	Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
	And out there somewhere
	And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
	Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
	Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
	You can touch and twist
	And turn two kinds of doorknobs
	You can either go to the church of your choice
	Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
	You' ll find God in the church of your choice
	You' ll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

	And though it' s only my opinion
	I may be right or wrong
	You' ll find them both
	In the Grand Canyon
	At sundown

	Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie

	Boby Dylan

	When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb
	When you think you' re too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
	When yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace
	In a slowmotion crawl of life' s busy race
	No matter what yer doing if you start givin' up
	If the wine don' t come to the top of yer cup
	If the wind' s got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on
	And the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone
	And yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
	And the wood' s easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it
	And yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long
	And you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong
	And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
	And tomorrow' s mornin' seems so far away
	And you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'
	And yer rope is aslidin' ' cause yer hands are adrippin'
	And yer sundecked desert and evergreen valleys
	Turn to broken down slums and trashcan alleys
	And yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe' s apourin'
	And the lightnin' s aflashing and the thunder' s acrashin'
	And the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops ashakin'
	And yer whole world' s aslammin' and bangin'
	And yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm
	And to yourself you sometimes say
	" I never knew it was gonna be this way
	Why didn' t they tell me the day I was born"
	And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat
	And you' re lookin' for somethin' you ain' t quite found yet
	And yer kneedeep in the dark water with yer hands in the air
	And the whole world' s awatchin' with a window peek stare
	And yer good gal leaves and she' s long gone aflying
	And yer heart feels sick like fish when they' re fryin'
	And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet
	And you need it badly but it lays on the street
	And yer bell' s bangin' loudly but you can' t hear its beat
	And you think yer ears might a been hurt
	Or yer eyes' ve turned filthy from the sightblindin' dirt
	And you figured you failed in yesterdays rush
	When you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush
	And all the time you were holdin' three queens
	And it' s makin you mad, it' s makin' you mean
	Like in the middle of Life magazine
	Bouncin' around a pinball machine
	And there' s something on yer mind you wanna be saying
	That somebody someplace oughta be hearin'
	But it' s trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head
	And it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed
	And no matter how you try you just can' t say it
	And yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it
	And yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head
	And yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead
	And the lion' s mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth
	And his jaws start closin with you underneath
	And yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind
	And you wish you' d never taken that last detour sign
	And you say to yourself just what am I doin'
	On this road I' m walkin', on this trail I' m turnin'
	On this curve I' m hanging
	On this pathway I' m strolling, in the space I' m taking
	In this air I' m inhaling
	Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard
	Why am I walking, where am I running
	What am I saying, what am I knowing
	On this guitar I' m playing, on this banjo I' m frailin'
	On this mandolin I' m strummin', in the song I' m singin'
	In the tune I' m hummin', in the words I' m writin'
	In the words that I' m thinkin'
	In this ocean of hours I' m all the time drinkin'
	Who am I helping, what am I breaking
	What am I giving, what am I taking
	But you try with your whole soul best
	Never to think these thoughts and never to let
	Them kind of thoughts gain ground
	Or make yer heart pound
	But then again you know why they' re around
	Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down
	" Cause sometimes you hear' em when the night times comes creeping
	And you fear that they might catch you asleeping
	And you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'
	And you can' t remember for the best of yer thinking
	If that was you in the dream that was screaming
	And you know that it' s something special you' re needin'
	And you know that there' s no drug that' ll do for the healin'
	And no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding
	And you need something special
	Yeah, you need something special all right
	You need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track
	To shoot you someplace and shoot you back
	You need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler
	That' s been banging and booming and blowing forever
	That knows yer troubles a hundred times over
	You need a Greyhound bus that don' t bar no race
	That won' t laugh at yer looks
	Your voice or your face
	And by any number of bets in the book
	Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
	You need something to open up a new door
	To show you something you seen before
	But overlooked a hundred times or more
	You need something to open your eyes
	You need something to make it known
	That it' s you and no one else that owns
	That spot that yer standing, that space that you' re sitting
	That the world ain' t got you beat
	That it ain' t got you licked
	It can' t get you crazy no matter how many
	Times you might get kicked
	You need something special all right
	You need something special to give you hope
	But hope' s just a word
	That maybe you said or maybe you heard
	On some windy corner ' round a wideangled curve

	But that' s what you need man, and you need it bad
	And yer trouble is you know it too good
	" Cause you look an' you start getting the chills

	" Cause you can' t find it on a dollar bill
	And it ain' t on Macy' s window sill
	And it ain' t on no rich kid' s road map
	And it ain' t in no fat kid' s fraternity house
	And it ain' t made in no Hollywood wheat germ
	And it ain' t on that dimlit stage
	With that halfwit comedian on it
	Ranting and raving and taking yer money
	And you thinks it' s funny
	No you can' t find it in no night club or no yacht club
	And it ain' t in the seats of a supper club
	And sure as hell you' re bound to tell
	That no matter how hard you rub
	You just ain' t agonna find it on yer ticket stub
	No, and it ain' t in the rumors people' re tellin' you
	And it ain' t in the pimplelotion people are sellin' you
	And it ain' t in no cardboardbox house
	Or down any movie star' s blouse
	And you can' t find it on the golf course
	And Uncle Remus can' t tell you and neither can Santa Claus
	And it ain' t in the cream puff hairdo or cotton candy clothes
	And it ain' t in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons
	And it ain' t in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices
	That come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'
	Sayin' ain' t I pretty and ain' t I cute and look at my skin
	Look at my skin shine, look at my skin glow
	Look at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry
	When you can' t even sense if they got any insides
	These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows
	No you' ll not now or no other day
	Find it on the doorsteps made outa paper mache
	And inside it the people made of molasses
	That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses
	And it ain' t in the fiftystar generals and flippedout phonies
	Who' d turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny
	Who breathe and burp and bend and crack
	And before you can count from one to ten
	Do it all over again but this time behind yer back
	My friend
	The ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl
	And play games with each other in their sandbox world
	And you can' t find it either in the notalent fools
	That run around gallant
	And make all rules for the ones that got talent
	And it ain' t in the ones that ain' t got any talent but think they do
	And think they' re foolin' you
	The ones who jump on the wagon
	Just for a while ' cause they know it' s in style
	To get their kicks, get out of it quick
	And make all kinds of money and chicks
	And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat
	Sayin', " Christ do I gotta be like that
	Ain' t there no one here that knows where I' m at
	Ain' t there no one here that knows how I feel
	Good God Almighty
	THAT STUFF AIN' T REAL"

	No but that ain' t yer game, it ain' t even yer race
	You can' t hear yer name, you can' t see yer face
	You gotta look some other place
	And where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'
	Where do you look for this lamp that' s aburnin'
	Where do you look for this oil well gushin'
	Where do you look for this candle that' s glowin'
	Where do you look for this hope that you know is there
	And out there somewhere
	And your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads
	Your eyes can only look through two kinds of windows
	Your nose can only smell two kinds of hallways
	You can touch and twist
	And turn two kinds of doorknobs
	You can either go to the church of your choice
	Or you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital
	You' ll find God in the church of your choice
	You' ll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

	And though it' s only my opinion
	I may be right or wrong
	You' ll find them both
	In the Grand Canyon
	At sundown

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