D A G
This is my forty-fifth depressing tune
D A G Em
They're looking for money as they clean my artistic womb
D A G Em
And when I give birth to the child I must take to flight
D A G Em
'Cause the black in our pocket won't let us fight
A C
A proper fight
A
So hey baby
C A
Can you shed some light on the problem maybe
C A D G
'Cause we're all tired and we'd like to know
Em C Cm G G
If we should pack our tents, shut down the show
Em C Cm G
Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign
C Cm G
But anything would be fine
D A G
We're all told to dance but we never picked the tune
D A G Em
Hanging like puppets they feed us from bent steel spoons
D A G Em
But we're sealing our lips for the someday when the needle
D A G Em
And the vinyl play all the songs of the pain
A C
Songs that explain
A
All our circles and strains
C A
So hey baby
C A
Can you shed some light on the problem maybe
C A D G
'Cause we're all crying and we'd like to know
Em C Cm G G
If we should pack our tents, shut down the show
Em C Cm G
Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign
C Cm G
But anything would be fine
Solo
C A D G
We're all dying and we'd like to know
Em C Cm G G
If we should pack our tents, shut down the show
Em C Cm G
Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign
C Cm G
But anything would be fine
C Cm G
Oh, anything would be fine
_______________________________________________________
Contribuição: P. Ricardo R. Santos([email protected])
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