Tom: Dm
Introdução: Dm7 Dm7 G G Dm7 Dm7 G G
Dm7 G
Every ending that you ever rushed
Dm7 G
Stings like cinder, slow as rust
Dm7 G
Shotgun slug found in the middle of
Dm7 G
A field of red bags, ripe with Vidalias
Am F
Time ain't always kind
Am F
To the shakin' child or the slippin' mind
Dm7 G
Every heart that you ever loved
Dm7 G
Ragged wrung and divvied up
Dm7 G
Fallow tracts to a scythe, a dove
Dm7 G
A cellar stocked with bushels of
Am F
Time ain't always kind
Am F
To the shakin' child or the slippin' mind
F G
Hallelujah, turpentine
C G/B Am
We can tend the land for a little while
F G
Bones of those beneath the boundary lines
C G/B Am
East in sets first, and then clockwise
F
Clockwise
Dm7 G
Every acre that you ever owned
Dm7 G
Hissed and split like a radiator hose
Dm7 G
I seen your kinfolk walkin' the meadows
Dm7 G
Burrs and burns, but not alone
Am F
Time ain't always kind
Am F
To the shakin' child or the slippin' mind
F G
Hallelujah, turpentine
C G/B Am
We can tend the land for a little while
F G
Bones of those beneath the boundary lines
C G/B Am
East in sets first, and then clockwise
F
Clockwise