• Song:

    Ricochet

  • Artist:

    David Bowie

A (x02220@1) A (x02220@1)D (xx0232@1)                      GLike (320003@1)weeds on a rockface waiting for the scythe 
    Ab (xx1114@1)       ARicochet (x02220@1)- ricochet
    D (xx0232@1)                  GThe (320003@1)world is on a corner waiting for jobs 
    D (xx0232@1)        GRicochet (320003@1)- ricochet
              E (022100@1)                       ATurn (x02220@1)the holy pictures so they face the wall
AAnd (x02220@1)who can bear to be forgotten
AAnd (x02220@1)who can bear to be forgotten



AMarch (x02220@1)of flowers, march of dimes
AThese (x02220@1)are the prisons, these are the crimes
AMen (x02220@1)wait for news while thousands are still asleep
ADreaming (x02220@1)of tramlines factories pieces of machinery
AMine (x02220@1)shafts things like that
AMarch (x02220@1)of flowers, march of dimes
AThese (x02220@1)are the prisons, these are the crimes
ASound (x02220@1)of thunder, sound of gold
ASound (x02220@1)of the devil breaking parole
ERicochet (022100@1)- it's not the end of the world



D (xx0232@1)Sound of thunder, sound of gold
GSound (320003@1)of the devil breaking parole 
    E (022100@1)        A (x02220@1)Ricochet - ricochet
DThese (xx0232@1)are the prisons, these are the crimes
GTeaching (320003@1)life in a violent new way 
    D (xx0232@1)        GRicochet (320003@1)- ricochet
              E (022100@1)                       ATurn (x02220@1)the holy pictures so they face the wall

AAnd (x02220@1)who can bear to be forgotten
AAnd (x02220@1)who can bear to be forgotten



AMarch (x02220@1)of flowers, march of dimes
AThese (x02220@1)are the prisons, these are the crimes
AEarly, (x02220@1)before the sun, they struggle off to the gates
AIn (x02220@1)their secret fearful places they see their lives
AUnravelling (x02220@1)before them
AMarch (x02220@1)of flowers - march of dimes
A (x02220@1)Sound of thunder, sound of gold
AThese (x02220@1)are the prisons, these are the crimes
ASound (x02220@1)of the devil breaking parole
ERicochet (022100@1)it's not the end of the world

ABut (x02220@1)when they get home, damp eyed and weary
They smile and crush their children to their heaving chests
Making unfulfillable promises
For who can bear to be forgotten

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