Зарегистрироваться

Masters of war

  • Автор: Bob Dylan
  • Текст песни:
    ~From: jgladman@uoguelph.ca (Julie R Gladman)
     Corrected lyrics:  Benjamin L. Weiss 
     
     This is my approximation of how this song is played:
     
     Masters of War -- Bob Dylan
     
     Am    Am7 Am
     
     Am               Am Am7 Am
     Come you masters of war
     Am                      Am Am7 Am
     You that build the big guns
     Am                      Am Am7 Am
     You that build the death planes
     Am                        Am Am7 Am
     You that build all the bombs
     Am                     Am Am7 Am
     You that hide behind walls
     Am                      Am Am7 Am
     You that hide behind desks
     Am     C           G          F                Am     Am7 Am
     I just want you to know I can see through your masks
     
     And the song just continues in that vein for the rest of the
     Verses:
     
     You that never have done nothin’ but build to destroy
     You play with my world like it’s your little toy
     You put a gun in my hand then you hide from my eyes
     Then you turn and run farther when the fast bullets fly
     
     Like Judas of old you lie and deceive
     A world war can’t be won, and you want me to believe
     But I see through your eyes and I see through your brain
     Like I see through the water that runs down my drain
     
     You that fasten all the triggers for the others to fire
     Then you sit back and watch while the death count gets
     Higher
     You hide in your mansions while the young people’s blood
     Flows out of their bodies and gets buried in the mud
     
     You’ve thrown the worst fear that can ever be hurled
     Fear to bring children into the world
     For threatening my baby, unborn and unnamed
     You ain’t worth the blood that runs in your veins
     
     How much do I know to talk out of turn
     You might say that I’m young, you might say I’m unlearned
     But there’s one thing I know, though I’m younger than you
     Even Jesus would never forgive what you do
     
     Let me ask you one question:  is your money that good?
     Will it buy you forgiveness?  Do you think that it could?
     I think you will find when your death takes its toll
     All the money you made won’t ever buy back your soul
     
     And I hope that you die and your death will come soon
     I’ll follow your casket through the pale afternoon
     And I’ll watch while you’re lowered into your death bed
     Then I’ll stand over your grave till I’m sure that you’re
     Dead
     
     *Corrections to lyrics or chords would be most welcome.*
     
     --
     *Do you ever get the feeling that the story’s too damn real
     And*
     *in the present tense?   Or that everybody’s on the stage
     And it*
     *seems like you’re  the only  person sitting  in the
     Audience?*
     *                           -Ian Anderson
     *
     *   Something to think about,
     *
     *        Julie Gladman jgladman@uoguelph.ca
     *
     
     
     
    
    
  • Аккорды, присутствующие в подборе:
Рейтинг: 0 Голосов: 0 Ваша оценка:

© 2012 MuzHub.space

Email: info@muzhub.space.