#I'm a real creep and bad at sayin hi but HI

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Never Beating the Big Brother Allegations

Vil + Epel + Leona, it's a little shippy between Leona and Vil, Leona does call Vil, Princess and is just generally Flirty but it's up to you whether you want to take it as him being a little facetious or if it's Real. Also tw for blood/injury Epel has a bloody nose and is a little banged up (not angsty dw) Also I know Lions don't purr, Leona does, deal with it.

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"Hey, take it easy Crash, sit down." Leona couldn't help but smirk a bit at the look Epel gave him.

Epel was sitting on one of the infirmary beds, the rest empty save for him, holding a cloth with ice under his nose as he leaned forward a bit, the blood from his nose staining it a dark red. His brow was cocked, challenging Leona for a moment. Despite how ridiculous he knew he sounded when he spoke, he decided to anyways.

"It ain't that bad, this weren't the first time I done somethin' like this. I'm fine, I hit ma head 'nough times when I was younger t'know this ain't nothin' t'worry 'bout! We didn' have t'lug ourselves all the way t'the goddamned infirmary for a nosebleed and a couple bruises....and my name ain't Crash."

Leona snorted a bit and poked Epel's head, causing the younger one to recoil a bit and make a disgruntled noise in response. "It is until further notice. I've never seen anyone bail as hard as you did, or come out of it with something as minor as a nosebleed. Even with the cleaning spell Ruggie casted, you look like you rolled around in a pig sty..." He paused and sniffed the air a bit, nose scrunching a bit. "...and smell like it too."

Epel shot him a dirty look, about to speak again when the tell tale clicks of heels on tile became apparent to both of them, Leona's ear flicking at the same time Epel groaned.

"You told Vil??"

"What am I, your babysitter? Obligated to tell your mom what happened?? No I didn't tell Vil, Rook was probably being a creep again and reported back to your housewarden."

"VIL AIN'T MY MOM."

"And you're not my child, but for Seven's sake Epel, did you really think that news of you being sent to the infirmary wouldn't reach me eventually?" Vil stood in the doorway of the infirmary, hands on his hips, and brows knitted. "What have I told you about the way you fly? You're far too reckless, this was bound to happen eventually." He tsked softly, walking briskly over to the bed and grabbing Epel's face gently. He looked over him for a moment, then at the rest of his body and sighed.

"Rook told me you took the disc to the face and ended up spiraling out of the air. I was worried it was worse. You're very fortunate to have come out of your crash as well as you have." He sighed softly, and pinched the bridge of his nose before turning to Leona.

"You-"

"Not taking your shit. This kinda stuff happens sometimes when people decide to do more than pretend they're someone else as a hobby." Leona gave Vil a shit-eating grin, teasing him a bit.

Vil shook his head. "That's not what you're in trouble for! You weren't going to tell me that my underclassman ended up in the infirmary!"

Despite Vil getting into his personal space a bit, Leona stayed where he was and just smiled more genuinely, though still arrogant. "Who said that? Pretty sure I just said I didn't tell you, not that I wasn't going to. Besides, Crash was sayin' it's no big deal, and anyone who can take the kinda hit he did and walk away's got some pull on their say. I believe him."

"My name is NOT Crash!!" Epel stood up from the bed, swaying a tiny bit, which did not go unnoticed by either of his upperclassmen, both of them reaching out...well, Leona, pushing him gently back onto the bed, and Vil, ready to offer a helping hand, the blonde shooting the other a bit of a dirty look. Epel groaned a bit and moved the towel away from his nose. "See, it's mostly stopped bleeding now anyways, it wasn't a big deal, it isn't a big deal and BOTH A YA'S HAVE GOTTA STOP ACTIN' LIKE AHM SOME BIG BABY!"

Leona acted faster than either of the Pomefiore residents had time to react, slipping his arm around Vil's shoulders and turning him away from Epel, (who was about ready to swallow his hands as a means of shutting himself up), and utilized his secret weapon. A deep, rumbly purr caught Vil off guard as Leona very lightly bumped his face against Vil's hair.

For the second time in less than a minute, Vil was surprised by the actions of his fellow schoolmates. Such a ...tender sound coming from Leona was baffling enough he allowed himself to be walked out of the room.

Once out of the room, Leona let go of Vil, giving him another, signature cocky smile, though softened by a bit of embarrassment he tried so hard to conceal.

"Alright Princess, I know all that must have been stressful for you, why don't you go and find something that'll help you forget about today."

The corner of Vil's lips kicked up in amusement.

"Acting would be a good skill to have right about now for you, wouldn't it."

Leona's ears flattened, he touched the back of his neck awkwardly and looked to the side, his tail flicking slightly, though between his legs. "Shut up."

"Is that how you speak to princesses?" Vil smirked, his hands on his hips as he looked up at Leona, teasing him.

Leona huffed a bit, amused. "Nah, none of them are worth talking to." He waited a beat, his sliding sideways to meet Vil's once more. "But I guess that's on me for calling you one, when everyone already knows you're a queen."

He chuffed softly, placing one hand on his hip as Vil crossed his arms in a lightheartedly 'angry' way, though he was smiling at the beastman.

"I'll make sure Epel gets back before curfew, don't worry. The kid's got spunk. He'll be right as rain in the next hour or so. Now I was serious, go do something else, anywhere else." He huffed a bit, matching Vil's playful energy as his tail flicked.

"Augh, fine, if you insist. If he's late, it's you who's going to be in trouble."

Leona waved Vil off somewhat dismissively, but they both knew it was light hearted. He immediately dropped the whole facade as he walked back into the infirmary, expression difficult to read as Epel looked at him a little warily.

"What did you-"

"You owe me."

Epel groaned, moving the towel away from his nose. "What do you want? Or is it Vil askin' by proxy?"

Leona moved to the side, preparing another cloth, wetting it with clean water and holding it out to Epel as he took the sullied one away.

"Whatever you've got on your plate for lunch, if it looks appealing, I'm taking some. Just for the week."

Epel took a moment to register what the new cloth was for, before gently wiping at some of the blood that was still left on his face and eyeing Leona warily. He sighed, when his upperclassmen seemed serious about the matter.

"Alright. I guess that's doable." He sighed, finally relenting to Leona's care as they tried to confirm his nose wasn't broken.

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"Your lunch sucks ass Crash." Leona's voice made Epel startle slightly in the cafeteria, the freshmen whipping around in his seat to look up at Savannaclaw's housewarden.

"I wha? Huh??" He looked back down at his food for a moment, his brows furrowed. "What's wrong with my food?"

Leona snickered a bit and lightly flicked Epel's head. "You responded to Crash as your name. Enjoy your food I guess."

Ruggie was quick behind Leona, nabbing one of Epel's bread rolls and taking a bite, snickering as well. "Damn, guess you really are Crash now."

Epel's cheeks flushed a bit at being called Crash in front of his first year friends, but realized his fate was already sealed as he saw Ace's expression out of the corner of his eye...and that he would more than likely be left alone lunch wise for the rest of the week, getting off easy on his punishment.

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As always, it's not beta read lmao

lmk if you wanna hop on the tag list:

@galaxies-and-gore @fluffle-writes

[maladjust3d]

I feel bad for Arthur, but i’m also not at all surprised he got divorced. I mean, he’s a real weirdo! It’s about time his now ex wife realized somethin’ was up and odd about him.

Sayin' Arthur's an odd guy is an understatement. I'm surprised a guy like that even managed to get himself a wife in the first place.

Between you and me, that guy's a nutjob. I'm real nice to him whenever he comes to my office, but to tell ya the truth he creeps me the hell out. I wish he'd leave me alone.

[jellyrubs]

@bendorama

Howdy! Thanks for the follow back I absolutely love lurking on your blog vicariously through my friend who I see rps with you hHHA.

I love your Bender.

[kfawkes]

Heey, it's the anon who asked the request question! Thanks for explaining, I'm kind of new to this whole Tumblr thing. Okay, so I wanted to ask if you could do a Pre-Kingsman! Eggsy x Reader where Eggsy would go over to the reader's house to escape Dean's bullshit. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!

[Hi there! Thanks so much for the request :D Sorry this is late ;.; As i’m assuming you know, I’ve had back to back cons and been so busy. Buuuut it’s break time so I’m gettin to it!

HOPE YOU LIKE IT MY SWEET ANON ;.; I think this is good???? but frequently when I get back form however many days off, I can’t tell because I read them so much lmao

Pairing: Eggsy x Reader – Pre Kingsman; ref to Daisy, Michelle and Dean.

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Cursing, abuse references (its obvious Dean is abusive, so keep that in mind– nothing too bad though it’s mostly the aftermath, etc.)

—Read on Ao3!]

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

“E-Eggsy..?” You leaned over quickly, turning on the light by your bed as you scratched your tired eyes awake. 

You fumbled around for your phone sleepily, knocking it off the bed in a loud crash. Even without seeing a name and photo across the screen- you knew it would be him. Eggsy was the only person that ever called you in the middle of the night and those calls usually meant one thing.

Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, leaning over the bed reaching your fingers long as the buzzing phone inched slowly away with each pulse. 

You slid it closer with your fingertips, pulling it to your ear as you nearly fell out of bed hoping to answer just in time.

“H-hello? Eggsy?” When you spoke you weren’t rushed, but you weren’t exactly calm either… 

You were definitely scared though that much was clear, and as you slunk back to the bed stuffing yourself comfortably under the warmth of the covers you felt a blanket of panic surrounding you.

“Sorry, luv… Was you sleepin’?” Eggsy asked almost convincingly calm, but you could feel the duress seeping off him as he spoke. You could hear as a deep breath was released before he continued, lighter than before. “Corse you was, it’s nea–”

“Babe, it’s fine… seriously.” You pulled yourself to sit against your headboard interrupting him, unable to hold the yawn you held any longer. 

You knew the answer before you asked it, but maybe just this once Eggsy would be alright… Maybe just this once he was calling to tell you how much he loved you. But more likely, he was calling because of Dean. 

“Are you okay?” You finally asked, holding a fist of blanket between your nervous palms.

“Could use you bout now… was wonderin’ if you wanted some company?” 

“You don’t have me to keep asking me that. I gave you a key for a reason, Eggsy.” You said confidently pulling your arms into a long stretch just as you heard a key sliding into the lock, echoing throughout your flat. 

You smiled to yourself as the door creeped open, and a set of familiar footsteps grew louder.

“How’s it that sayin’ goes?” You could hear Eggsy’s voice over the phone, and in the hallway as he approached; and you felt a wave of excitement cascading your lower stomach persistently covering your anxiety in full. “What’s it… ‘old habits die hard’, innit?”

“I do believe that’s the one.” You whispered sarcastically into the phone one last time just as he pushed opened your bedroom door. 

You let your phone drop from your hand as Eggsy took a step forward, tucking his hands in his sweater pockets anxiously. Even though you expected to see him like this– it was hard. 

Really fucking hard. So hard that you didn’t even know what to say this time.

Eggsy stood there with a busted lip, a black eye and a small gash on the left side of his forehead. Your jaw hung lightly open as a sadness swept your otherwise serene face. 

You were getting pretty fucking sick of seeing Eggsy like this… There was something about seeing the man you loved broken, bruised and bloodied that sent you into an almost unchecked fury; and honestly if Dean was there you weren’t sure what you’d do to him.

Hell, you’d probably try to kill the son of a bitch if that fury wasn’t also accompanied by one of the worst pains you’d ever felt. All of that was usually followed by sadness and an almost desperate need to hug him and tell him you loved him. 

But you weren’t there yet… The anger part was still in full swing and you fucking hated Dean. He really was a special breed of asshole; truly unique in his abilities to royal fuck everything up around him and how an amazing woman like Michelle ended up with him, was beyond you. 

Fortunately for you, you’d only met the prick once, but he surely lived up to his reputation. Slimy, scummy, far too cocky for his own good and abusive beyond all else. You’d lost count of how many times you had to clean Eggsy up, and no matter how often it happened, it never got any easier.

But he needed you and he needed you to be strong; so you pushed your blankets aside with heavy eyes as you crawled towards the end of the bed. He stood there with his jaw clenched tightly with eyes dark and burdened. When you reached him you pushed to your knees, sliding your hands up his chest to rest around his neck softly. 

“What happened, baby?” Your voice was soft and light as you moved your hand to his cheek, lightly tracing the raised and reddened flesh. 

Eggsy pursed his lips painfully– more from the face you wore than anything physical he felt– then swallowed as you slid your fingertips over the cut in his lip.

“Same as always, luv. Don’t worry bout it though, yeah?” He faked a smile finally pulling his hands from his pocked, placing them around your waist. “Got you now, don’I?” 

When he smiled this time it was real, and you even though it hurt, you smiled back pulling him into a hug. You could feel the warmth of his breath as he pressed his mouth into your shoulder; hugging you just as tightly. 

“Always, babe. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.” You slid away with a smile, kissing him on the cheek before stepping from the bed. 

As you walked lazily from the room you slid your fingers between his, pulling him slightly behind you and down the hall. Your cat Nimbus jumped on the counter with a loud purr after you shoved the bathroom door open causing Eggsy to smile sweetly. 

He walked forward, sitting on the rim of the tub as he pet your roommate softly; having grown fully used to this routine. 

“You gonna make me ask you about all this again, Eggy?” Your lips curled into a soft smile as you slide your hand to his chin; lifting his face towards yours as you examine him more carefully. “And ‘the usual’ isn’t going to cut it this time, so don’t even try it.”

Right now you realize you’d gotten a little too good at cleaning him up, and that made you more than a little uneasy. But after the 5th or so time, you at least were better at hiding the shock from your face. 

Or maybe you weren’t now that you thought about it…

“Nah, know better than that by now.” Eggsy slid his bottom lip between his teeth playfully as he raised a hand to the side of your thigh, giving your leg a soft shake as he stare up at you affectionately.

You tried not to smile as you dabbed his forehead and mouth, cleaning up the dried blood and erasing any evidence you could. It wasn’t always easy to pretend this was normal, but you really did try and as much as you didn’t want to admit it… this sort of was normal, wasn’t it? 

That realization made you more sick than you wanted to show however, and right then you were glad Eggsy was distracted by the cat; because your face sure as shit wouldn’t have been believable.

“You best get talkin, Unwin. Final warning.” You were far more collected than you felt when you spoke, and for that you were thankful.

You even managed to sound a little playful this time which was reassuring. Maybe you were better at this than you thought.

“Yeah, alright.” He released a sigh, still running his hand up and down the back of your thigh slowly as he watched how intently you cared for him. “Got home. Dean was smashed… banging on an gettin’ rough with my mum– woulda hit her if I done nothin’, so I did.”

You breathed out sharply as you pulled the box of bandages from the cabinet; furrowing your brow into a fine crinkle. “Do… you know why?”

“Fuck if I do, babe… Why’s that prick do anythin’ he does, hm?” 

“Is she doing okay?” You asked reluctantly, but you knew there was no way Eggsy would be here if Daisy and his mum weren’t safe. “And the baby?”

“Course they are, don’t worry.” Eggsy squeezed just above the back of your knee as reassuringly and as sincerely as he could muster. 

Biting back the stinging at his forehead was only tolerable because you were there, and damn if you didn’t look beautiful. Eggsy didn’t think he’d ever meet someone that would love him, flaws and all; yet here you were showing him someone could, and fuck if he didn’t love you immensely.

“He could of really hurt you.” When you finished he pulled you down to his lap; holding a strong confidence behind his eyes as you placed your arms around his neck. “I can’t lose you…”

“Ain’t gonna happen, babe. Not now, not ever. Alright?” He kissed you then, finally and in that moment you believed him.

You felt the soft chuckle he released as his lips curled into a smile; still pressed against yours. A moment later he slid his hands under your legs, picking you up like you weighed nothing at all. A soft yelp released your mouth and you grabbed ahold of him tightly as he pushed the door open with his foot, carrying you to your bedroom. 

“Alright.” You said with a smile, sliding his lips to yours.

A part of you knew you should talk about this– about what happened. But that’s not what he needed. Right now what Eggsy needed was you and you were more than happy to oblige.

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan from The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3

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

[dw-writes]

could you write a continuation of post 151590775885? i'm kinda really keen on them meeting again and s/o learning who 76 is/was, haha. thanks!

Of course!! That was my first Overwatch fic!! :D I’m glad you liked it!!

Continuation of this.

You had been spotting Solider: 76 all around Dorado for the last month and a half. He wasn’t hard to miss with that bright blue jacket and bright red visor, but there would be times where you thought you’d see him, look, and he’d be gone. Los Muertos activity had gone down, too, and while people worried about if they were planning some kind of new thing, they were mildly thankful to be able to walk the streets at night. Omnics especially.

You made your way to a nearby restaurant, humming to yourself, holding your bag tight just in case, when you spotted the owner’s daughter opening the door. “Ale!” you called. She whirled around to you with a grin.

“Oh hey!” she shouted back. She jogged over to you, jumping in place when she finally reached you. “Did mama tell you?”

“Tell me what, babe?” you asked her. She grinned and whirled around, falling into step with you as you walked towards the restaurant.

“I was saved by one of those heroes,” she whispered.

You stopped walking. “One of those heroes?” you asked.

She nodded and launched into your explanation, telling you how Soldier: 76 had saved her from a rogue group of Los Muertos when she had gone after them for her money. As she described the fight, you found yourself twisting your fingers together. The heroism sounded familiar. The fighting style, the take no prisoners mannerisms, the brashness. It was all…

Familiar.

You slowed you pace, chewing on your lip. “Ale, I need to go.”

“Aw, but I thought you were gonna stay for dinner!” she asked.

You gave her a faint smile. “Another time. I promise.”

She crossed her arms with a pout. “You better.”

You nodded and turned on your heel, following your path back to your apartment. You had hoped you would make there without incident, especially when you exited the stairs and walked into the open square without a problem.

But then they showed up. Los Muertos. Or, at least, a few of them.

Your shoulders slumped and you released a long, low sigh, digging through the bag at your hip for your wallet. “Look, I don’t want trouble,” you mumbled as they came closer. You held out the object, waving it at them as they closed in. “Just take my money and go. Okay? I just wanna go home.”

“You know,” one started. He swung a bat onto his shoulders as he closed into your personal space. “A little birdie dropped in and told us you have some old connections with that pinche pendejo that’s been runnin’ around, takin’ us out.”

You frowned, stepping back onto the steps leading up to another street. “Look I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, “But, seriously, I just want to go home. Please.”

The man dropped the bat onto the step next to your feet, chipping part of the concrete away. You jumped. “Now, I don’t wanna hurt you. But he messed up some of my boys real good. And I live by the motto ‘eye for an eye’.” He grinned and took another step, falling out of the light of the restaurant. His skull tattoos started to glow. “You get what I’m sayin’?”

There was a click, only audible in the pause between breaths. All eyes were drawn up to a figure perched on the ledge of a building behind you.

“Leave them alone,” he called, “Or you’ll be hurtin’ real bad tomorrow.”

It was enough to get them to creep back down the road, throwing a quick, “We’ll remember this” of their shoulders before they disappeared completely. You whirled around just in time to see Soldier: 76 jump down from the building, landing at the top of the stairs. He shifted his shoulders in the same pained movement he had when you had first seen him.

“You’re still here,” you whispered.

He dropped the front of his gun, letting the bottom rest on the top of his boot. “Dorado still has some things for me,” he replied.

You started up the steps, wringing your hands together. “Um,” you started. You stopped a step below him, looking up into his visor, staring into your own reflection. He tensed with your closeness. “Do I know you?” you tried. He lifted his foot, tossing his gun back into the air for him to catch, a sign that he was about to leave. “D-Do you know me!” you rephrased. You climbed the last step and reached out, gripping the front of his jacket before he was out of reach. “I know the answer to both of those is ‘yes’ so just say it for me!” you shouted, “I know who you are, I know but I don’t understand why you wouldn’t come find me, why you would choose to stay quiet and just—”

As you spoke, he slung his gun over his shoulder. You watched the movement, hands trembling when he reached out to cup your cheeks.

“You’re easy to remember,” you whispered, “You move the same. You fire the same. It didn’t take much for me to put it together, Ale told me you saved her, and the familiarity just didn’t sit right.”

He stayed quiet, just holding your face between his hands. “You couldn’t live with a dead man,” he finally answered, “And you needed to live. Even if that was without me.” He released your face and stepped back. Your hands fell from his jacket. Soldier: 76 turned away from you to walk down the street.

“You’re an idiot, Jack Morrison!” you called after him. He hunched his shoulders and froze. “If you believed that, you wouldn’t have stayed around so long! If you wanted that, you’d leave Dorado!”

Jack hovered under the arch in the road. As the echo of your voice faded away, he jogged out of sight. You felt the energy drain from your body and sat heavily on the stairs. Ale came to get you not too long after, saying that her mom wanted you to stay the night and that it wasn’t safe for you to go home so late, not now. You agreed and followed her in.

The next morning, as you sipped at your coffee, you watched the news switch to a breaking story, showing a shaky daylight video of Solider: 76 shooting down a hover truck full of robbers.

You smiled into your mug and took a long sip.

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan from The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3

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

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan from The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3

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

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan from The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3

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

[dylanradio]

Now Playing on DylanRadio.com: Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie by Bob Dylan from The Bootleg Series, Volumes 1-3

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