Bob Dylan – Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie (Live) Lyrics

Bob Dylan – Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie (Live) Lyrics

When your head gets twisted and your mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old, too young, too smart or too dumb
When you’re laggin’ behind and losin’ your pace
In a slow motion crawl of life’s busy race

No matter what you’re doing, if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come to the top of your cup
If the winds got you sideways with, with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slippin’ and the feelin’ is gone

And your train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it
And the woods’ easy findin’ but you’re lazy to fetch it
And your sidewalk starts curlin’ and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards though you know it’s wrong

And lonesome comes up as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’ seems so far away
And you feel the reins from your pony are slippin’
And your rope is a slidin’ ’cause your hands are a drippin’

And your sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys
Turn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys
And your sky cries water and your drain pipes a pourin’
And the lightnin’s a flashin’ and the thunders a crashin’

And the windows are rattlin’ and breakin’
And the roof tops a shakin’
And your whole world’s a slammin’ and bangin’
And your 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 you’re jumpin’ from sweat
And you’re lookin’ for somethin’ you ain’t quite found yet
And you’re knee-deep in the dark water with your hands in the air
And the whole world’s a watchin’ with a window peek stare

And your good gal leaves and she’s long gone a flyin’
And your heart feels sick like fish when they’re fryin’
And your jackhammer falls from your hand to your feet
And you need it badly but it lays on the street

And your bells bangin’ loudly but you can’t hear its beat
And you think your ears might been hurt
Or your eyes’ve turned filthy from the sight-blindin’ dirt
And you figured you failed in yesterday’s rush
When you were faked out, an fooled white facin’ 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 somethin’ on your mind you wanna be sayin’
That somebody someplace oughta be hearin’
But it’s trapped on your tongue and sealed in your head
And it bothers you badly when you’re layin’ in bed

And no matter how you try, you just can’t say it
And you’re scared to your soul, you just might forget it
And your eyes get swimmy from the tears in your head
And your pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead

And the lion’s mouth opens and your starin’ at his teeth
And his jaws start closin’ with you underneath
And you’re flat on your belly with your 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 hangin’, on this pathway I’m strollin’
In the space I’m takin’, in this air I’m inhalin'”

Am I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard?
Why am I walkin’, where am I runnin’?
What am I sayin’, what am I knowin’
On this guitar I’m playin’, 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 helpin’, what am I breakin’?
What am I givin’, what am I takin’?

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 your heart pound
But then again, you know why they’re around
Just waitin’ for a chance to slip and drop down

‘Cause sometimes you hear ’em when the night times comes creepin’
And you fear that they might catch you a sleepin’
And you jump from your bed, from your last chapter of dreamin’
And you can’t remember for the best of your thinkin’
If that was you in the dream that was screamin’

And you know that it’s somethin’ 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 your brain from bleedin’
And you need somethin’ special
Yeah, you need somethin’ 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 bangin’ and boomin’ and blowin’ forever
That knows your troubles a hundred times over

You need a Greyhound bus that don’t bar no race
That won’t laugh at your 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 somethin’ to open up a new door
To show you somethin’ you seen before
But overlooked a hundred times or more

You need somethin’ to open your eyes
You need somethin’ to make it known
That it’s you and no one else that owns
That spot that you’re standin’, that space that you’re sittin’

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 somethin’ special all right
You need somethin’ 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 your trouble is you know it too good
‘Cause you look and you start gettin’ 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 dim lit stage
With that half-wit comedian on it
Rantin’ and ravin’ and takin’ your 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 your ticket stub

No and it ain’t in the rumors people are 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 you 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 your back, my friend

The one’s 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 your 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 your game, it ain’t your race
You can’t hear your name, you can’t see your face
You gotta look some other place

And where do you look for this hope that you’re 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 Grand Canyon, sundown