Gethsemane

	  		


  
   A  
It started with the moon 
               E                   F#m 
that turned an inexpensive room into St. Peters. 
          A                        E 
There’s a parabolic story, but it’s boring 
        F#m 
and it ends how you’d expect. 

   A 
Forever dressing down 
         F#m 
I’m like a stranger 
                         G 
hanging round outside the kingdom hall. 
                    F#m 
I’d ‘ve carried your wedding shawl, 
                               E 
you could’ve said I was a school friend. 

        Bm                             D 
And you drag your holy horse cart in the sky 

when I wake up 
              Bm   
they say it’s just the sun 
               A 
but I know that face. 

 A                              E 
Excavating down you’d find the drowning and the drowned 
                 F#m 
and then there’s us, babe. 
          A                                E 
You could walk to our memorial, but it’s pourring 
         F#m 
and it ends how you’d expect. 

   A 
I dig your dresses out 
            F#m 
and hang ‘em round about the house 
              G 
and turn the lights down low. 
                F#m 
Now you’re everywhere I go 
                    E 
looking faintly disappointed. 

         Bm                              D 
And you drag your holy horse cart in the sky 

when I wake up 
              Bm 
they say it’s just the sun 
                 A         (G#5) 
but I know that face. 

F#m 
But the devil’s tricks 
                              A     (B5)  
just seem to sit so light on you. 
F#m 
They’d never get the Marionette 
               A 
this tight on you. 

      Bm 
In the parliamentary houses 
            D 
there’ll be talk of what this is 
        Bm                            A 
with inexpert witnesses and evidence against us. 
        Bm 
But I’ll take my pound of substance 
            D 
from those insubstantial men. 
               Bm 
Whatever their arguments, 
                A 
I’ll prove your innocence. 

 D 
Drag your holy horse cart in the sky 
                    A 
when I wake up, oh yeah. 

 D  
Testify allegiance with more 
                                A 
puncture wounds than Jesus, oh yeah. 
      D 
Every statue’s weeping honey 

and it makes my sight go funny 
           A 
‘cause I’m over sympathetic 

and I can’t control myself. 
 D 
Leave that painful memory 
                              A           E        A 
in the garden of Gethsemane, oh yeah, oh yeah.