Bob Dylan
G Am
Clouds so swift, the rain won't lift
C G
The gates won't close, the railings froze
Am
Get your mind off wintertime
C G
You ain't going nowhere
Ooo-wee, ride me high
Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
Ooh, ooh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair
I don't care how many letters they sent
The morning came and the morning went
Pick up your money, pack up your tent,
You ain't going nowhere
Ooo-wee...
Buy me a flute and a gun that shoots
Tailgates and substitutes
Strap yourself to the tree with roots
You ain't going nowhere
Ooo-wee...
Gengis Khan he could not keep
All his kings supplied with sleep
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it
Ooo-wee...
Créditos: pedro ribeiro cardoso(pedro_ribeiro415@hotmail.com)
