Bob Dylan "Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie" lyrics

Translation to:sr

Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie

When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numbWhen you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumbWhen yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer paceIn a slow-motion crawl of life's busy raceNo matter what yer doing if you start givin' upIf the wine don't come to the top of yer cupIf the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' onAnd the other starts slipping and the feeling is goneAnd yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch itAnd the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch itAnd yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too longAnd you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrongAnd lonesome comes up as down goes the dayAnd tomorrow's mornin' seems so far awayAnd 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 valleysTurn to broken down slums and trash-can alleysAnd 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 stormAnd to yourself you sometimes say"I never knew it was gonna be this wayWhy didn't they tell me the day I was born"And you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweatAnd you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yetAnd yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the airAnd the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stareAnd yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flyingAnd yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'And yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feetAnd you need it badly but it lays on the streetAnd yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beatAnd you think yer ears might a been hurtOr yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirtAnd you figured you failed in yesterdays rushWhen you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flushAnd all the time you were holdin' three queensAnd it's makin you mad, it's makin' you meanLike in the middle of Life magazineBouncin' around a pinball machineAnd there's something on yer mind you wanna be sayingThat somebody someplace oughta be hearin'But it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer headAnd it bothers you badly when your layin' in bedAnd no matter how you try you just can't say itAnd yer scared to yer soul you just might forget itAnd yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer headAnd yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of leadAnd the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teethAnd his jaws start closin with you underneathAnd yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behindAnd you wish you'd never taken that last detour signAnd 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 hangingOn this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm takingIn this air I'm inhalingAm I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hardWhy am I walking, where am I runningWhat am I saying, what am I knowingOn 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 breakingWhat am I giving, what am I takingBut you try with your whole soul bestNever to think these thoughts and never to letThem kind of thoughts gain groundOr make yer heart poundBut then again you know why they're aroundJust waiting for a chance to slip and drop down"Cause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creepingAnd you fear that they might catch you a-sleepingAnd you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'And you can't remember for the best of yer thinkingIf that was you in the dream that was screamingAnd 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 bleedingAnd you need something specialYeah, you need something special all rightYou need a fast flyin' train on a tornado trackTo shoot you someplace and shoot you backYou need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howlerThat's been banging and booming and blowing foreverThat knows yer troubles a hundred times overYou need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no raceThat won't laugh at yer looksYour voice or your faceAnd by any number of bets in the bookWill be rollin' long after the bubblegum crazeYou need something to open up a new doorTo show you something you seen beforeBut overlooked a hundred times or moreYou need something to open your eyesYou need something to make it knownThat it's you and no one else that ownsThat spot that yer standing, that space that you're sittingThat the world ain't got you beatThat it ain't got you lickedIt can't get you crazy no matter how manyTimes you might get kickedYou need something special all rightYou need something special to give you hopeBut hope's just a wordThat maybe you said or maybe you heardOn some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve

But that's what you need man, and you need it badAnd 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 billAnd it ain't on Macy's window sillAnd it ain't on no rich kid's road mapAnd it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity houseAnd it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germAnd it ain't on that dimlit stageWith that half-wit comedian on itRanting and raving and taking yer moneyAnd you thinks it's funnyNo you can't find it in no night club or no yacht clubAnd it ain't in the seats of a supper clubAnd sure as hell you're bound to tellThat no matter how hard you rubYou just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stubNo, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' youAnd it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' youAnd it ain't in no cardboard-box houseOr down any movie star's blouseAnd you can't find it on the golf courseAnd Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa ClausAnd it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothesAnd it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goonsAnd it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voicesThat come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'Sayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skinLook at my skin shine, look at my skin glowLook at my skin laugh, look at my skin cryWhen you can't even sense if they got any insidesThese people so pretty in their ribbons and bowsNo you'll not now or no other dayFind it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache_And inside it the people made of molassesThat every other day buy a new pair of sunglassesAnd it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phoniesWho'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a pennyWho breathe and burp and bend and crackAnd before you can count from one to tenDo it all over again but this time behind yer backMy friendThe ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirlAnd play games with each other in their sand-box worldAnd you can't find it either in the no-talent foolsThat run around gallantAnd make all rules for the ones that got talentAnd it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they doAnd think they're foolin' youThe ones who jump on the wagonJust for a while 'cause they know it's in styleTo get their kicks, get out of it quickAnd make all kinds of money and chicksAnd you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hatSayin', "Christ do I gotta be like thatAin't there no one here that knows where I'm atAin't there no one here that knows how I feelGood God AlmightyTHAT STUFF AIN'T REAL"

No but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer raceYou can't hear yer name, you can't see yer faceYou gotta look some other placeAnd 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 thereAnd out there somewhereAnd your feet can only walk down two kinds of roadsYour eyes can only look through two kinds of windowsYour nose can only smell two kinds of hallwaysYou can touch and twistAnd turn two kinds of doorknobsYou can either go to the church of your choiceOr you can go to Brooklyn State HospitalYou'll find God in the church of your choiceYou'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital

And though it's only my opinionI may be right or wrongYou'll find them bothIn the Grand CanyonAt sundown

Poslednji spomeni na Vudija Gatrija

Kada ti se spetlja glava ili ti utrne duhKad misliš da si prestar ili premlad suviše mudaril glupKada izgubiš korak u jeku opšte frkeIli u tromom gmizanju kad ispadneš iz trkeKad počneš da dižeš ruke kad počnu svi da te plašeKad vino neće da ti dopre do ivice čašeKad grčiš jednu ruku a druga ti već kliziDok vetar duva s doka da se prosto pošiziKad tvojoj lokomotivi treba novoga žaraA tebe mrzi da se s ugljem bakćeš zbog garaKad ti je pločnik sve krivlji a ulica sve daljaKad kreneš unatraške mada znaš da ne valjaKad nastupa samoća dok se povlači danKad ti je sutrašnje jutro ko nedostižan sanKad vidiš da ti uzde ispadaju iz rukeI laso klizi jer ti se dlanovi znoje od mukeKad tvoje osunčano bespuće i zelene tvoje dolinePostaju slepe ulice smetlišta večne tmineKad nebo vapi za vodom ili te poplava gušiKada sevaju munje i grom se na tebe rušiKada prozori zveče krovovi cepte i ječeKad ti se čitav tvoj svet slama za jedno večeKada trenutke sunca smene sati olujeI kad ti se neki put na samog sebe psuje"Zašto mi niko ne reče da će biti ovakoJoš onda kad se rodih čim sam prvi put plako"Obliven hladnim znojem počneš da tražiš neštoŠto ti celog života za malo izmiče veštoRuke ti grabe prazninu do pasa si u buriDok sav svet gviri kroz prozor pilji u tebe i zuriI ostavlja te draga i odleće bez tragaA srce ti je ko riba kad se za prženje vagaNajteži čekić na noge ispuštaš sam iz rukuKad ti najviše treba i on ti pada na mukuI tvoja zvona zvone a ti ih ne možeš čutiI zasipa te smeće i pogled ti se mutiA juče si dobio tri dame za badavaJer su ti poturili svoj kare iz rukavaTek sada te zbog toga spopala gadna ljutinaKao na nekoj ludoj slici iz magacinaI dok se oko flipera gicaš kao prase u vrećiNešto ti je na umu hteo bi nekom rećiUklješteno u grlo pod pečatom u glaviLegneš li samo još više tišti te to i daviA ne možeš to reći ma kolko da se trudišBojiš se zaboravićeš dođe ti da izludišDok očima kolutaš čini ti se da plutaš i u isti mah tePerjana uzglavlja žulje kao olovne plahtePred lavljom si čeljusti kao pred otvorenim grobomŠto zjapi i polako zatvara se pred tobomIl ležiš potrbuške nazad ti vezane rukeI kaješ se što srnu u poslednje okukeI pitaš se šta radiš otkud ti u tom kutuI na toj raskrsnici otkud ti na tom putuOtkud na toj kriviniU tom vazduhu u tom prostoruOtkud na toj čistiniKo zna šta mi se piše upetljan sam sve višeZašto koračam zašto trčimKoje to puteve krčimŠta to govorim šta to znamŠta to hoću da damDok sviram na gitari dok truskam bendžo stariUz mandolinu dok snevam u pesmi koju pevamU melodiju koju pevušim rečima koje pišemRečima koje smišljam i u kojima dišemU okeanu časova koje bez prestanka pijemKoga to pomažem i šta to krijemŠta to dajem i za šta hajemI mada se boriš bez dahaDa odagnaš te misli ne daš da uzmu mahaI osvajaju teren korak po korakDok treptiš i ceptiš i sam si sebi gorak.

Pa ipak znaš zašto se vrzmaju oko tebeI svaka čeka priliku da se o tebe ogrebeJer ih katkada čuješ kad gmižu sve bliže i bliže i već su tuI zato strepiš da te ne ščepaju u snuPa skačeš sa postelje iz poslednjeg pogleda snovaKao iz rovaAli se ne sećaš i ne znaš šta se to zbiTaj što je u snu zavrištao jesi li bio tiI znaš da ti treba nešto potreba ti je prekaA znaš i da tome nema nikakvog lekaI da sve piće sveta zaustaviti nećeKrvoliptanje iz tvoga duha sve veće i veće

Da,nešto posebno tebi trebaKao nekakav poklon s nebaTreba ti leteći voz tračnice uraganaDa te odbace nekud i vrate istog danaTreba ti lokomotiva iz čijeg grotla cikloniDuvaju gruvaju cijuču fijućuJer znaju tvoje muke i oniTreba ti autobus što ne zna za podelu rasaŠto neće da ti se podsmeva zbog tvoga glasaTvog lica tvog izgleda tvoje kože tvog stavaŠto će da vozi još dugo stavljaš ruku u vatruKad prođe moda žvaka kad se i poslednje satruTreba ti nešto što će nova da otvori vrataDa ti otkrije nešto iz sataU sat viđano bezbroj putaTreba ti nešto da ti otvori oči bar maloTreba ti nešto da bi se znaloDa si ti taj i niko drugi bar ovoga minutaKome pripada to mesto gde stojišGde sediš gde hodaš gde opstojišDa te svet nije slomioNije te zgromioDa te sve ovo nije naglo u ludiloMa koliko te puta na njega osudiloTreba ti nešto posebno to ti trebaDa bi ti pružilo nadu preču od hlebaAli je nada samo zvuk samo huk nekako tmioSamo reč koju si možda rekao ili čuoIza nekoga ugla na vetrometiniU daljini

Tek to je ono što ti treba moj pobroA nevolja je što i sam znaš to dobroJer čim ti duša za tim ožedniŽmarci te prođu ledni

Jer to ne možeš naći ni na novčaniciNi u robnim kućama ni na kosmičkoj staniciNi na mapama poslovnih dembelaraU koledžima bogatih ćuranaU holivudskim preparatimaNi na polumračnoj sceni gde se satimaKrevelji neki tupan komičar neki bez daraTek da ti uzme malo paraA da bi sve bilo grešnoTebi je to još smešnoNe,to ne možeš naći na nekoj jahti ili u baruNi u otmenom budoaruA pogotovu nemaš šansi ni iz dalekaDa nađeš to na odsečku svog čekaNe,to nije u glasinama koje pronose pojedinciI nije u toliko reklamiranoj šminciNi u kućerinama što na kutije ličeNi u dekolteima filmskih zvezda iz pričeTo nećeš čuti na stadionu a ni u sali za karateNi od svog tate ni od Božić-BateTo nije u spreju za kosu ni pod suknjom od cicaNi u lutkama iz izloga u njuškama bez licaNi u sladunjavom glasu toj čokoladnoj lažiŠto se šepuri u rođendanskoj ambalažiGovoreći ti Vidi me što sam slatkaVidi što mi je koža glatkaVidi kako mi sija vidi kako to prijaUme da se smeje i plače kada i jaA ti i neznaš da li ičega imaPod tim trakama Pod frazama u njimaNe,nećeš ti to naći ni danas ni bilo kog danaNa trošnom stubištu ispred svog stanaNi među ljudima od sirupa koji dostižu svoje vrhunceKupujući triput nedeljno nove naočari za sunceNi među generalima sa pedeset zvezdica na ramenimaNi među senilnim šarlatanima s poznatim imenimaKoji bi te izdali za malo pićaIli delić novčićaI koji dahću i brehću pa za tren ista spletkaZa tvojim leđima iz početkaEh moj stariTi mešetari glavni govnari za sve stvariIgraju igre i jedni s drugima izdižući se na petuU svome trošnom svetuA nećeš to naći ni međ nedarovitim budalamaŠto se motaju po salamaIli propisuju skrovitiPravila za one što su darovitiNećeš to naći među takvima što misle d imaju daraI da se svako lako varaŠto misle da se moraBiti u žiži jer je to glavna foraTek da se malo otkačeDa neku ribu potkačeI da u letu maznu neku monetuA ti besniš na sebe i lupaš nogom"Što mora tako zar nikog nema pod bogomKo znaGde sam to jaBlagi bože zar nema nikoga u bliziniKoji bi znao kako mi je

Sve mi se valjda samo to čini

Ali to nije tvoja igra nema tu tvoje kriviceNe čuješ svoje ime ne vidiš svoje liceI treba samoDa odeš ko zna kamoAl gde da tražiš tu nadu da se pred tobom stvoriGde da tu svetiljku tražiš il sveću što još goriGde izvor nafte da šikne i da se razvijoriGde da tražiš tu nadu a znaš negde je imaZa brdima iza onoga dimaA samo se dve vrste puteve nogama tvojim predajuSamo kroz dve vrste prozora oči ti mogu da gledajuSamo dve vrste predvorja nozdrve tvoje opsedajuSamo dve vrste kvakaMože da takne i makne tvoja šakaMožeš da odeš u neku crkvu Božjemu SinuIli u Državnu bolnicu u BruklinuNaći ćeš boga u crkvi makar ga i ne mogo taćiA u Bruklinskoj bolnici ćeš Vudija Gatrija naćiI mada to mislim samo jaA da li sam u pravu to je već drugo pitanjeNaći ćeš i jednog i drugogU Velikom KanjonuU svitanje...

Here one can find the lyrics of the song Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan. Or Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie poem lyrics. Bob Dylan Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie text.