Texto
Desplazamiento
Transportador
Color de Fondo
Herramientas
Tamaño
Tamaño
Altura
Altura
G
By the shooting range
F
At the door of the plain
C G
A poet lies in the ground
G F
His family is there and for years they have stared
C G
At the wooden box surround
G
Perhaps he stood there
F
And with phrases had cared
C G
To have captured the views he found
G
If you're crossing the line
F
An angel you'll find
C G
Deep in the wooded land
F C G
Don't want to grow much older now
F C G
I want to feel the sun, sun shine down
F C
Don't want to see my bones rust
F C
My skin turn to dust
F C G
And change from what I am now
Follow the path where the trees lead the road
And the tombs are made of stone
Three bearded men worship within
a church arrayed in gold
We can see with our eyes
And question our lives
And still not know were we go
If you're sure where you are
Well that's good so far
But we only know what we know
Don't want to grow much older now
I want to feel the sun, sun shine down
Don't want to see my bones rust
My skin turn to dust And change from what I am now
The child in the womb
Was conceived in the wood
Upon this very ground
My hopes are made clear
A life without fear
And respect for his fellow man
I'll try to be strong
When I lead him along
The path that has been planned
But I'm still not sure
Of where I'll be gone
When I leave this land
Don't want to grow much older now
I want to feel the sun, sun shine down
Don't want to see my bones rust
My skin turn to dust
And change from what I am now
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