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
