Τετάρτη, 4 Ιανουαρίου 2012

Πεζούλα -- hOuSe Of CaRdS

"Time Is On My Side"

                organ and guitar [US LP take]; organ [US 45, UK LP take]:

                Bb       Dm       G7       C7
                / / / /  / / / /  / / / /  / / / /

Verse 1:

                F             Bb           C
                Time is on my side, yes it is  (2x)
                Dm             C7    Dm                  G7
                Now you always say   that you want to be free
                C                       Bb
                But you'll come runnin' back (3x)
                To me

Verse 2:

                Time is on my side, yes it is  (2x)
                You're searchin' for good times, but just wait and see
                But you'll come runnin' back (3x)
                To me

Bridge (spoken):

                Go ahead, baby, go ahead
                Go ahead and lay it on the town
                Bb7                         F7
                And baby, do anything your heart desires
Remember I'll always be around
                Bb7                                                 Dm
                And I know, I know, like I told you so many times before
                You're gonna come back, yeah, you're gonna come back baby
                Knockin', yeah, knockin' right on my door

Verse 3:

                Time is on my side, yes it is  (2x)
                'Cause I got the real love, the kind that you need
                But you'll come runnin' back (3x)
                To me


                F                           Bb          C
                Time, time, time, is on my side, yes it is

Le Monocle de Mon Oncle

by Wallace Stevens
"Mother of heaven, regina of the clouds,
O sceptre of the sun, crown of the moon,
There is not nothing, no, no, never nothing,
Like the clashed edges of two words that kill."
And so I mocked her in magnificent measure.
Or was it that I mocked myself alone?
I wish that I might be a thinking stone.
The sea of spuming thought foists up again
The radiant bubble that she was. And then
A deep up-pouring from some saltier well
Within me, bursts its watery syllable.

A red bird flies across the golden floor.
It is a red bird that seeks out his choir
Among the choirs of wind and wet and wing.
A torrent will fall from him when he finds.
Shall I uncrumple this much-crumpled thing?
I am a man of fortune greeting heirs;
For it has come that thus I greet the spring.
These choirs of welcome choir for me farewell.
No spring can follow past meridian.
Yet you persist with anecdotal bliss
To make believe a starry connaissance.

Is it for nothing, then, that old Chinese
Sat tittivating by their mountain pools
Or in the Yangtse studied out their beards?
I shall not play the flat historic scale.
You know how Utamaro's beauties sought
The end of love in their all-speaking braids.
You know the mountainous coiffures of Bath.
Alas! Have all the barbers lived in vain
That not one curl in nature has survived?
Why, without pity on these studious ghosts,
Do you come dripping in your hair from sleep?

This luscious and impeccable fruit of life
Falls, it appears, of its own weight to earth.
When you were Eve, its acrid juice was sweet,
Untasted, in its heavenly, orchard air.
An apple serves as well as any skull
To be the book in which to read a round,
And is as excellent, in that it is composed
Of what, like skulls, comes rotting back to ground.
But it excels in this, that as the fruit
Of love, it is a book too mad to read
Before one merely reads to pass the time.

In the high west there burns a furious star.
It is for fiery boys that star was set
And for sweet-smelling virgins close to them.
The measure of the intensity of love
Is measure, also, of the verve of earth.
For me, the firefly's quick, electric stroke
Ticks tediously the time of one more year.
And you? Remember how the crickets came
Out of their mother grass, like little kin,
In the pale nights, when your first imagery
Found inklings of your bond to all that dust.

If men at forty will be painting lakes
The ephemeral blues must merge for them in one,
The basic slate, the universal hue.
There is a substance in us that prevails.
But in our amours amorists discern
Such fluctuations that their scrivening
Is breathless to attend each quirky turn.
When amorists grow bald, then amours shrink
Into the compass and curriculum
Of introspective exiles, lecturing.
It is a theme for Hyacinth alone.

The mules that angels ride come slowly down
The blazing passes, from beyond the sun.
Descensions of their tinkling bells arrive.
These muleteers are dainty of their way.
Meantime, centurions guffaw and beat
Their shrilling tankards on the table-boards.
This parable, in sense, amounts to this:
The honey of heaven may or may not come,
But that of earth both comes and goes at once.
Suppose these couriers brought amid their train
A damsel heightened by eternal bloom.

Like a dull scholar, I behold, in love,
An ancient aspect touching a new mind.
It comes, it blooms, it bears its fruit and dies.
This trivial trope reveals a way of truth.
Our bloom is gone. We are the fruit thereof.
Two golden gourds distended on our vines,
Into the autumn weather, splashed with frost,
Distorted by hale fatness, turned grotesque.
We hang like warty squashes, streaked and rayed,
The laughing sky will see the two of us
Washed into rinds by rotting winter winds.

In verses wild with motion, full of din,
Loudened by cries, by clashes, quick and sure
As the deadly thought of men accomplishing
Their curious fates in war, come, celebrate
The faith of forty, ward of Cupido.
Most venerable heart, the lustiest conceit
Is not too lusty for your broadening.
I quiz all sounds, all thoughts, all everything
For the music and manner of the paladins
To make oblation fit. Where shall I find
Bravura adequate to this great hymn?

The fops of fancy in their poems leave
Memorabilia of the mystic spouts,
Spontaneously watering their gritty soils.
I am a yeoman, as such fellows go.
I know no magic trees, no balmy boughs,
No silver-ruddy, gold-vermilion fruits.
But, after all, I know a tree that bears
A semblance to the thing I have in mind.
It stands gigantic, with a certain tip
To which all birds come sometime in their time.
But when they go that tip still tips the tree.

If sex were all, then every trembling hand
Could make us squeak, like dolls, the wished-for words.
But note the unconscionable treachery of fate,
That makes us weep, laugh, grunt and groan, and shout
Doleful heroics, pinching gestures forth
From madness or delight, without regard
To that first, foremost law. Anguishing hour!
Last night, we sat beside a pool of pink,
Clippered with lilies scudding the bright chromes,
Keen to the point of starlight, while a frog
Boomed from his very belly odious chords.

A blue pigeon it is, that circles the blue sky,
On sidelong wing, around and round and round.
A white pigeon it is, that flutters to the ground,
Grown tired of flight. Like a dark rabbi, I
Observed, when young, the nature of mankind,
In lordly study. Every day, I found
Man proved a gobbet in my mincing world.
Like a rose rabbi, later, I pursued,
And still pursue, the origin and course
Of love, but until now I never knew
That fluttering things have so distinct a shade.

The Snow Man
by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

"Losing My Religion" by R.E.M.

F         xx3211         Em        022000
Fsus2     xx3011         Em(II)    x79987
G         320033         Ebm       x68876
Am        x02210         C         x32010
Am(II)    xxx210         Dm        xx0231

The tab is for the mandolin part not the acousitic guitar part(but the chords are at the top of this page)  The chords above the tab refer to the acoustic guitar and not to the mandolin parts, the reason I put them is for a reference to when you play what.   Also I am too lazy to write all the parts eveytime they appear because there's a lot of repeating.  Okay now that the explanation is done,

the Intro is :

Part one:
  F                         Fsus2    F                          G                   Am                Am(II)

                                                       F                        Fsus2    F

                     G                    Am                                        G
e------12--10--12--10-------I------------------------I      End of Part one

Part Two:
     Am                                                                                            Em




Am                                                                                            Em

                                                                       Em(II)     Ebm


End of part two

Fill 1   Am             Em
 Oh life    is bigger,    it's bigger than you.
            Am                              Em
And you are not me, the lengths that I will go to.
The distance in your eyes.
Em                  Em(II) Ebm Dm                      G
   Oh no, I've said     too    much, I've said enough.
                         Am                  Em
That's me in the corner,    That's me in the spot light,
                    Am           Em
Losing my religion.    Trying to keep up with you.
And I don't know if I can do it.
Em                  Em(II) Ebm Dm                           G
   Oh no, I've said     too    much, I haven't said enough.
   Fill2                                        F    Fsus2
I thought that I heard you laughing.
F                G         Am    Am(II)
I thought that I heard you sing.
  F          Fsus2  F   G   Am
I think I thought I saw you try.
G  (fill3)     Am
  Every whisper,
             Em                                 Am
Every waking hour, I'm choosing my confessions.
Trying to keep eye on you.
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool.
Em                            Dm                G
   Oh no, I've said too much.    I said enough.
               Am               Em
Consider this,    consider this hint of the century.
               Am                Em
Consider this,    the slip, that brought me to my knees failed
Am                               Em
What if all these fantasies come    flailing around
               Dm             G
Now I've said too much.
   fill2                                  F Fsus2
I thought that I heard you laughing.
F                G         Am    Am(II)
I thought that I heard you sing.
  F          Fsus2  F   G   Am   G
I think I thought I saw you try.

C                      Am
That was just a dream.
C                 /               C                 Am
  That was just a dream.   That's me in the corner.
                 Em                              Am
That's me in the spot light, losing my religion.
          Em                       Am
Trying to keep up with you.  And I don't know if I can do it.
Em                  Em(II) Ebm Dm
   Oh no, I've said     too    much.
I haven't said enough.
   fill2                                  F Fsus2
I thought that I heard you laughing.
F                G         Am    Am(II)
I thought that I heard you sing.
  F          Fsus2  F   G     Am(II)   Fill3
I think I thought I saw   you try.
    F        Fsus2  F      G Am      Am(II)
But that was just a dream,      try, cry, why try.
F        Fsus2  F      G        Am            G      /          Fill3
That was just a dream,   just a dream, just a dream, dream.
(Play the first measure 7 times guitar stops after 1st measure)

Fill 1

Fill 2

Fill 3

Every verse is part two of the tab
The chorus is part one