Tono: F
Introducción:
Eb F Gm Eb F Gm
In a dog's life, a year is really more like seven
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And all too soon a canine will be chasing cars in doggie heaven
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It seems to me, as we make our own few circles 'round the Sun
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We get it backwards and our seven years go by like one
G D A B
Dog years...It's the season of the itch
G D A B F G Am F G
Dog years...With every scratch it reappears
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In the dog days, people look to Sirius
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Dogs cry for the moon, but these connections are mysterious
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It seems to me, while it's true that every dog will have his Day
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When all the bones are buried, there is barely time to go outside and play
G D A B
Dog years...It's the season of the itch
G D A B
Dog years...With every scratch it reappears
G D A B
Dog years...For every sad son of a bitch
G D A G F G C
Dog years...With his tail between his ears
F G F G F G C
I'd rather be a tortoise from Galapagos, or a span of geological time
F G F G F G
I'd rather be a tortoise from Galapagos, or a span of geological time
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Than be living in these dog years, living in these dog years
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In a dog's brain a constant buzz of low level static
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One sniff at the hydrant and the answer is automatic
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It seems to me, as well make our own few circles 'round the block
Bb C Dm Bb C
We've lost our senses, for the higher level static of talk
G D A B
Dog years...For every sad son of a bitch
G D A G
Dog years...With his tail between his ears
Bb C Bb
In these dog years, oooo!
Bb C Bb
In these dog years, oouu!
Bb C Bb
In these dog years, oooo!
Bb C F G F
In these dog years, oouu! Oooo!
F G Eb F Gm Eb F
In these dog years, oooo!