Mariano

    Am                             
The man outside he works for me, 
  F
his name is Mariano
   Am                              
He cuts and trims the grass for me 
   C                 G
he makes the flowers bloom
   Am                              
He says that he comes from a place 
    F
not far from Guanajuato
      Am                           
Thats two days on a bus from here, 
  G                  Am
a lifetime from this room.

  Am                               
I fix his meals and talk to him in 
F
my old broken spanish
   Am                           
He points at things and tells me 
          C                G
names of things I can't recall
    Am                             
Sometimes I just can't but help but
 F
 wonder who this man is
    Am                        
And if when he is gone will he 
   G            Am
remember me at all

  Am                               
I watch him close he works just 
  F
like a piston in an engine
   Am                             
He only stops to take a drink and 
C           G
smoke a cigarette
Continúa después del anuncio
     Am                  F
When the day is ended, I look 
outside my window
      Am                 G    
There on the horizon, Mariano's 
       Am
silhouette

   Am                    
He sits upon a stone in a 
       F
south-easterly direction
  Am                               
I know my charts I know that he is 
C               G
thinking of his home
     Am                         F
I've never been the sort to say I'm 
in to intuition
    Am                         G  
But I swear I see the faces of the
                   Am
 ones he calls his own

      Am                           
Their skin is brown as potters 
        F
clay, their eyes void of expression
      Am                      
Their hair is black as widow's 
               C                
dreams, their dreams are all but 
  G
gone
        Am                      
They're ancient as a vision of a 
 F
sacrificial virgin
    Am                  G         
Innocent as crying from a baby 
   Am
being born

     Am                            
They hover around a dying flame and
 F
 pray for his protection
      Am                           
Their prayers are all but answered 
   C                  G
by his letters in the mail
   Am                              
He sends them colored figures that 
   F
he cuts from strips of paper
    Am                          
And all his weekly wages, saving 
 G              Am
nothing for himself

     Am                            
It's been a while since I have seen
 F
 the face of Mariano
    Am                             
The border guards they came one day
     C             G
 and took him far away
  Am                               
I hope that he is safe down there 
  F
at home in Guanajuato
  Am                         
I worry though I read there's 
   G              Am
revolution every day...