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A NOTE ABOUT PUBLISHING:

All works by Woody Guthrie are held under U.S. Copyright Law. If you are interested in using a song for publication, recording, performance, or other, please contact the appropriate publisher listed at the bottom of each lyric.

If you have questions, please feel free to contact Anna Canoni at: acanoni(at)woodyguthrie.org


PUBLISHER'S CONTACTS:

TRO-Essex Music Group
Attn: Christina Sayles
266 West 37th Street, 17th Floor
New York, NY 10018-6609
T: 212-594-9795 x24
Website


Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc.
(Administered by BMG Chrysalis)
Attn: Gregg Barron
6100 Wilshire Boulevard, Suite #1600,
Los Angeles, CA 90048
T: (323) 969-0988
E: info.us@bmgchrysalis.com
Website


Sanga Music Group
(Administered by Bicycle Music)
449 South Beverly Drive, Suite 300
Beverly Hills, CA 90212 
T: 310-286-6600
Website


Michael Goldsen Music, Inc.
6124 Selma Avenue
Hollywood, CA 90068


MCA Music Publishing
c/o Universal Music, Inc
2440 Sepulveda Boulevard, #100
Los Angeles, CA 90064


 

 

The Debt I Owe
Words by Woody Guthrie, text edit and additional words by Lou Reed, Music by Lou Reed
Excerpt from Woody Guthrie essay The Debt I Owe, 10/25/1946

Every day, several times a day, a thought comes over me.
I owe more debts than I ever can pay back more money than I'll ever see.

I walk around the streets of Coney Island . I look through the windows of every store. I peep through the hallways and the doorways and I think of this debt I owe.

I feel like a piece of crushed wreckage, some smashed car in a salvage yard, a vision of an old newspaper blown across an old navy yard, a curbstone chipped and beaten, a piece of gum stuck to a shoe, an empty pack of used matches, an empty version of you.

People stroll and they saunter like papercups thrown in the trash. They're crawling all over the sidewalks, their wallets stuck in their pants. And it comes over me like a mist rising, a fog falling over a ship. The bell is ringing out danger, but it's too late to cancel this trip.

I see the mist rising before me, my hand reappears by my face. By my waist a cold empty pocket, on my wrist the tears from your face. And I think of what I thought this cold morning, it's the same thing I'm thinking at three. I owe more than I can ever pay back, more than I'll ever see.

I think of what I thought this cold morning, I think of what I'm thinking at three. At ten and at midnight the same damn thing, I wish this debt was about money.

 


© Copyright 2011 by Woody Guthrie Publications, Inc. & Spirit Music Group
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