Texto
Desplazamiento
Transportador
Color de Fondo
Herramientas
Tamaño
Tamaño
Altura
Altura
This is simplified version, I just worked it out on ukulele, and it's probably not
perfect, but it sounds resonably close to the song.
Fm Eb Bb
Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes
Fm Eb Bb
God'll forgive them I guess but whose side are you on
Fm Eb Bb
Driving around the old town I remember it all
Fm Eb Bb
Dropping my lunchbox and tampax all over the hall
(And they said)
Cm Bb Db
You are a socialist ehead we know from your clothes
Cm Bb Db
You are a Satanist worshipper of things evil
Cm Bb Db
Think you're a poet a folksinger poseur nah-oh
Cm Bb Db
A volleyball player you've got to be kidding us all
Eb Ab Eb Ab
So we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance
Eb Ab Eb Ab
Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn
Fm Eb Bb
No-one can stop us the script is a work of genius
Fm Eb Bb
No-one has bought the rights yet but we're not giving up
Fm Eb Bb
Every unwanted lawn jockey fits in the script
Fm Eb Bb
Directed by spielberg and starring the club
Db C
Mary you look like hell
Db C
Stuck in that ridiculous shell, oh
Ab Eb
Give us some light and god's pure love
Db Ab
We know what you've been dreaming of
Ab Eb
Give us some light and god's pure love
Db Ab
We know what you've been dreaming of
Ab Eb
Give us some light and god's pure love
Db Fm Em
We're taking you to Hollywooo-oood
(Fm, E, Eb, Bb, Bbm)
(Holllyyyywoooooddd!)
Eb Ab Eb Ab
And we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance
Eb Ab Eb Ab
Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn
Cm Bb Db
One plays a socialist ehead we dress in my clothes
Cm Bb Db
One plays a Satanist worshipper of things evil
Cm Bb Db
One plays a poet who starts up a band of his own
Cm Bb Db
One plays a volleyball player with both her wrists broke
Eb Ab Eb Ab
And we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance
Eb Ab Eb Ab
Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn
Eb Ab Eb Ab
And we give them good homes give them love they've never known
Eb Ab Eb Ab
In the loft in the barn in the town where I was born
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