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Bob Dylan - Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie Lyrics

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When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb

When you think youre too old, too young, too smart or too dumb

When yer laggin behind an losin yer pace

In a slow-motion crawl of lifes busy race

No matter what yer doing if you start givin up

If the wine dont come to the top of yer cup

If the winds 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 woods 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 tomorrows 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 pipes a-pourin

And the lightnins a-flashing and the thunders a-crashin

And the windows are rattlin and breakin and the roof tops a-shakin

And yer whole worlds 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 didnt they tell me the day I was born

And you start gettin chills and yer jumping from sweat

And youre lookin for somethin you aint quite found yet

And yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air

And the whole worlds a-watchin with a window peek stare

And yer good gal leaves and shes long gone a-flying

And yer heart feels sick like fish when theyre fryin

And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet

And you need it badly but it lays on the street

And yer bells bangin loudly but you cant hear its beat

And you think yer ears might a been hurt

Or yer eyesve 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 its makin you mad, its makin you mean

Like in the middle of life magazine

Bouncin around a pinball machine

And theres something on yer mind you wanna be saying

That somebody someplace oughta be hearin

But its 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 cant 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 lions 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 youd never taken that last detour sign

And you say to yourself just what am I doin

On this road Im walkin, on this trail Im turnin

On this curve Im hanging

On this pathway Im strolling, in the space Im taking

In this air Im 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 Im playing, on this banjo Im frailin

On this mandolin Im strummin, in the song Im singin

In the tune Im hummin, in the words Im writin

In the words that Im thinkin

In this ocean of hours Im 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 theyre around

Just waiting for a chance to slip and drop down

Cause sometimes you hearem 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 cant remember for the best of yer thinking

If that was you in the dream that was screaming

And you know that its something special youre needin

And you know that theres no drug thatll 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

Thats been banging and booming and blowing forever

That knows yer troubles a hundred times over

You need a greyhound bus that dont bar no race

That wont 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 its you and no one else that owns

That spot that yer standing, that space that youre sitting

That the world aint got you beat

That it aint got you licked

It cant 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 hopes just a word

That maybe you said or maybe you heard

On some windy corner round a wide-angled curve

But thats 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 cant find it on a dollar bill

And it aint on macys window sill

And it aint on no rich kids road map

And it aint in no fat kids fraternity house

And it aint made in no hollywood wheat germ

And it aint on that dimlit stage

With that half-wit comedian on it

Ranting and raving and taking yer money

And you thinks its funny

No you cant find it in no night club or no yacht club

And it aint in the seats of a supper club

And sure as hell youre bound to tell

That no matter how hard you rub

You just aint a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub

No, and it aint in the rumors peoplere tellin you

And it aint in the pimple-lotion people are sellin you

And it aint in no cardboard-box house

Or down any movie stars blouse

And you cant find it on the golf course

And uncle remus cant tell you and neither can santa claus

And it aint in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes

And it aint in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons

And it aint in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices

That come knockin and tappin in christmas wrappin

Sayin aint I pretty and aint 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 cant even sense if they got any insides

These people so pretty in their ribbons and bows

No youll not now or no other day

Find it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache? br> and inside it the people made of molasses

That every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses

And it aint in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies

Whod 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 cant find it either in the no-talent fools

That run around gallant

And make all rules for the ones that got talent

And it aint in the ones that aint got any talent but think they do

And think theyre foolin you

The ones who jump on the wagon

Just for a while cause they know its in style

To get their kicks, get out of it quick

And make all kinds of rnoney and chicks

And you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat

Sayin, christ do I gotta be like that

Aint there no one here that knows where Im at

Aint there no one here that knows how I feel

Good God almighty

That stuff aint real

No but that aint yer game, it aint even yer race

You cant hear yer name, you cant 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 thats a-burnin

Where do you look for this oil well gushin

Where do you look for this candle thats 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

Youll find God in the church of your choice

Youll find woody guthrie in brooklyn state hospital

And though its only my opinion

I may be right or wrong

Youll find them both

In the grand canyon

At sundown

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