D D D D / Dm Dm Dm DmD He's out in the woods with his squirrel gunDm To try and recapture his angerG He's screaming some words at the top of his lungsEm A Until he begins to feel youngerF#dim Em But back at his desk in the city we findF#dim Em Our trembling punch-drunken fighterB7 Em B7 Em Who can't find the strength now to punish the lengthG A Of the ribbon in his little typewriter *G A Poor fractured AtlasA D Threw himself across the mattressG A Waving his withering pencilA D As if it were a pirate's cutlassDm C G I'm almost certainBb A D He's trying to increase his burdenEm B7 Em A He said "That's how the child in me planned it,A7 D A C G Bb A... A woman wouldn't understand it" I believe there was something that I wanted to say Before I conclude this epistle But you would forgive me for holding my tongue 'Cause Man made the blade and the pistol Yes, Man made the waterfall over the dam To temper his tantrum with magic Now you can't be sure of that tent of azure Since he punched a hole in the fabricG A Poor fractured AtlasA D Threw himself across the mattressG A Waving his withering pencilA D As if it were a pirate's cutlassDm C G I'm almost certainBb A D He's trying to increase his burdenEm B7 Em A He said "That's how the child in me planned it,A7 D A C G Bb A... A woman wouldn't understand it"D A D A7 D A C G Bb A D A D... A woman wouldn't understand it
Poor Fractured Atlas
Elvis Costello
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Continua depois do anúncio
Tom: