Mountains Make Me Crazy
The Weeks
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Tono:
D Oh, these mountains make me crazyF#m My legs can’t seem to standBm And I’ll be leaving in the morningG with or without you she saidD If I’m breaking what I’m buildingF#m I’ve ripped out every single stoneBm And you can break my soul or bonesG girl but you can’t destroy my homeEm No you can't destroy my homeD If these street lights they all flickerF#m Just like candles in the streetBm I will give my soul to strangersG and let the bastards sell it cheapD I've seen girls out on the street lordF#m Men drunk on the boulevardBm The kings all know my face lord andG the jokers pulled my cardEm Oh, the jokers pulled my cardBm They say that that doesn’t kill youD makes you strongerBm I should be pretty strong or so itF#m seemsG Em Cause I almost died a thousand timesD Bm Oh, death it follows meA I guess that’s what separates us gods from kingsContinúa después del anuncioD We will plant our dead in boxesF#m And pray to god that something growsBm Leave the widow on her kneesG Boys dressed in black with empty hopesD The children’s screams are crazyF#m Their eyes are blacked out from the smokeBm I can spare my bread and water, butG I cannot spare my coatEm No I cannot spare my coatD Don’t damn my imaginationF#m Cause my dreams are all I haveBm In the day its damp and dirtyG But when I sleep it’s not that badD Dirty hands they cling to boxcarsF#m Tender tears stain frozen cheeksBm We're all searching for salvationG but we won’t find it in these streetsEm We won’t find it in these streetsBm They say that that doesn’t kill youD makes you strongerBm I should be pretty strong or so itF#m seemsG Em Cause I almost died a thousand timesD Bm Oh, death it follows meA I guess that’s what separates us gods from kingsD Everybody lives for somethingF#m Well I guess I must live to thinkD You can have my thoughts at half the costEm 'Cause I think they’re killing meD Well the tree lines weave through fieldsF#m Giant serpents of the southD I’ve seen the sun set on the oceanEm I’ve seen the daylight drown itselfD Poets drink their whiskeyF#m They point out problems in our livesBm Well you will will never read his notebooksG He wont be famous till he diesD Well without our hearts were nothingF#m And without our spines were weakBm Well you can pump my blood or holdG me up but that still won't make me freeEm No that still won’t make me free