Cifras
Porteira do tempo

Tono: D

Introducción: Am    A7    Dm    Am    Dm    E7    Am    A7    Dm    Am    E7    Am    

                                Am                                                                                                                                              E7                                                                                                                                                                    Am  
Garoa miuda, o pranto da quincha, a noite anda triste o quarto vazio
                                                                                                        A7                                                                                                            Dm                                                                            E7                                                            Am  
A canha queimando,o agosto do peito, teu jeito morena, meu disvario
                                                                                                                                                                                                                          E7                                                                                                                                                                                 Am  
As horas demoram, acendem demencias, acordam lembranças, eternas fatais
                                                                             A7                                                                            Dm                                                                                                                         E7                                                                                            Am  
Desparam desejos, galopam em bases, miragens de um tempo, que não volta mais.
(refrão)
                                  A                                                                                                                         A7                                                                              D  Dm                                                                      E                                              B                 E  
O rancho, o rosto e o som, de um bandonion e loucos bordoneios de milonga
                A                                                                                                                      A7                                              D  Dm                                                                                                 E7                                                      AmA  
O mate, um gosto amargo e a solidão, eu bebo a madrugada que se alonga.
             A                                                                                                                      A7                                                                                    D  Dm                                                                      E                                                 B              E  
O rancho, o rosto e o som, de um bandonion e loucos bordoneios de milonga
                A                                                                                                                    A7                                                 D  Dm                                                                                                 E7                                                      AmA  
O mate, um gosto amargo e a solidão, eu bebo a madrugada que se alonga.
          A         A7            D  Dm         E            B         E         A            A7            D  Dm            E7         AmA  
     Am                                                                                                                                                                                                         E7                                                                                                                                                                            Am  
São tantas assombras, do mesmo candieiro, os mesmos pelegos, paredes iguais,
                                                                                                                        A7                                                                                              Dm                                                                                 E7                                                                      Am  
Quem sabe não chegas, já nada me importa, se cruzas a porta dos meus irreais,
                                                                                                                        A7                                                                                              Dm                                                                                 E7                                                                      Am  
Quem sabe não chegas, já nada me importa, se cruzas a porta dos meus irreais,
(refrão)
                                     A                                                                                                                         A7                                                                              D  Dm                                                                      E                                              B                 E  
O rancho, o rosto e o som, de um bandonion e loucos bordoneios de milonga
                  A                                                                                                                      A7                                              D  Dm                                                                                                 E7                                                      AmA  
O mate, um gosto amargo e a solidão, eu bebo a madrugada que se alonga.
                                  A                                                                                                                         A7                                                                              D  Dm                                                                      E                                              B                 E  
O rancho, o rosto e o som, de um bandonion e loucos bordoneios de milonga
                                  A                                                                                                                         A7                                                                              D  Dm                                                                      E                                              B                 E  
O mate, um gosto amargo e a solidão, eu bebo a madrugada que se alonga.
                                                                                                                                          D  Dm                                                                      E                                              B                 E  
Eu bebo a madrugada que se alonga.