Id Rather Be High
David Bowie
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- Bm
- C7
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- Dm
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- Em
- F#m
- G
Continúa después del anuncio
Tono:
Bm Nobokov is sun-licked nowD Upon the beach at GruenwaldBm Brilliant and naked justG The way that authors looksABm Clare and Lady Manners drinkD Until the other cows go homeBm Gossip till their lips are bleedingG Politics and allAEm A I'd rather be highA Em A I'd rather be flyingDm I'd rather be deadF#m Or out of my headDm Than training these guns on thoseD men in the sandContinúa después del anuncioD I'd rather be highABm The Thames was black, the tower darkD I flew to Cairo, find my regimentBm City's full of generalsG And generals full of shitABm I stumble to the graveyard and ID Lay down by my parents, whisperBm Just remember duckiesG Everybody gets gotAEm A I'd rather be highEm A I'd rather be flyingDm I'd rather be deadF#m Or out of my headDm Than training these guns of thoseD men in the sandA I'd rather be highD I'm seventeen and my looks canA prove itD A I'm so afraid that I will lose itE I'd rather smoke and phone my exC7 Be pleading for some teenage sexA YeahEm A I'd rather be highEm A I'd rather be flyingDm I'd rather be deadF#m Or out of my headDm Than training these guns on the menD in the sandA I'd rather be high