American Life Primus

American Life

Primus

TremoloTom

465
0:00 3:42
Accordatura Standard (E A D G B E)
Tempo 4/4
Tonalità: Gm
Capotasto:
Senza capotasto
Ritmica 2

Whole song: ↓ ↓ ↓ ↓ · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Outro: ↓ · ↓ ↑ ↓ · ↓ ↑ ↓ · ↓ ↑ ↓ · ↓ ↑

Testo

[Intro]
| Gm | - | - | - |

[Verse 1]
     Gm
In a town in southernmost Sicily
lived a family too proud to be poor.
In the year that fever took father away
they hastened for American shores.
Now a mother and her son are standing in line.
It's a cold day on Ellis Isle.
                               Eb
And they look to the statue of Liberty... Liberty...
Liberty...

[Chorus]
        Gm
For the boy we have American life.

[Verse 2]
   Gm
Ong  is a Laotian refugee,
he works in the audio trade.
The smoke from flux is filling his lungs.
He's earning minimum wage.
Spending spare time down on San Pablo ave.
Once a week gets a woman for the night.

[Chorus]
                               Eb
And he writes home tales of prosperety...
...sperety ...sperety.
        Gm
For the boy we have American Life.
For the boy we have American Life.

[Verse 3]
Gm    Gm
  Bob is an unemployed veteran,
born and bred im South Bronx.
He's living off the streets down in east L.
A.
Residing in a cardbroad box.
Now he plays a little quit and he has a small dag.
Searching for aluminum cans

[Chorus]
                            Eb
and he hold on tight to his dignity dignity dignity
       Gm
He was born into American Life.
He was born into American Life.
                               Gm
He was born into American Life.

[Outro]
                Eb |

Battute

[Intro]
| Gm | - | - | - |

[Verse 1]
| Gm - | - - | - -  | - - |
| -  - | - - | - Eb | - - |
| - 

In a town in southernmost Sicily
lived a family too proud to be poor.
In the year that fever took father away
they hastened for American shores.
Now a mother and her son are standing in line.
It's a cold day on Ellis Isle.
And they look to the statue of Liberty... Liberty...
Liberty...

[Chorus]
    Gm | - - | - - | - - |
| - -  | - - | - - | - - |
| -

For the boy we have American life.

[Verse 2]
    Gm | - - | - - | - - |
| - -  | - - | - - |

Ong  is a Laotian refugee,
he works in the audio trade.
The smoke from flux is filling his lungs.
He's earning minimum wage.
Spending spare time down on San Pablo ave.
Once a week gets a woman for the night.

[Chorus]
             | Eb |
| - | Gm | - | -  |
| - |

And he writes home tales of prosperety...
...sperety ...sperety.
For the boy we have American Life.
For the boy we have American Life.

[Verse 3]
      | Gm - | -  - | - - |
| - - | -  - | -  - | - - |
| - - | -  - | -  - | - - |
| - - | -  - | -  - | - - |
| - - | -  - | -  - | - - |
| - - | -  - | Gm - | - - |
| - - | -  - | -  - | - - |
| -

Bob is an unemployed veteran,
born and bred im South Bronx.
He's living off the streets down in east L.
Residing in a cardbroad box.
Now he plays a little quit and he has a small dag.
Searching for aluminum cans

[Chorus]
    Eb | - - | - Gm | - - |
| - -  | - - | - -  | - - |
| - -  | - - | - Gm | - - |
| - -  | - - | - -  | - - |
| - -  | - - | - -  | - - |
| - -  | - - | -

and he hold on tight to his dignity dignity dignity
He was born into American Life.
He was born into American Life.
He was born into American Life.

[Outro]
                Eb |

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