Biografía:
David Bromberg (b. September 19, 1938 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania) is an American guitarist. Bromberg has an eclectic style, playing bluegrass, blues, folk, country and western, and rock & roll equally well. He is known for his quirky, humorous lyrics. He has played with Jerry Jeff Walker and Bob Dylan, and is the co-writer, with former Beatle George Harrison, of the song The Holdup. He currently lives in Wilmington, Delaware where he owns a violin sales and repair shop. He occasionally performs at Wilmington's Grand Opera House.
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¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
All [F] through northern [C] Oregon
Al[F]ways at my [C] side
Sleep[F]ing in those [C]narrow beds
And then we’d [G] ride
Drink[F]ing in those [C] dirty bars
Keep[F]ing out of [C] sight
Sleep[F]ing in that [C] cold back seat
And then we’d [G] ride
You know that [F] God damn road seemed like it went for[C]ever
Ex[F]haust fumes made our eyes turn red and [C] swell
With our [F] clothes stuck to the seat and to our [C] bodies
It was the [G] stinking summer trip thorough southern hell
Eat[F]ing carbonated [C] crap
Churn[F]ing up in[C] side
[Gasup Service Station Jobs]
And then we’d [G] ride
Sil[F]ence in the [C] front seat
Trying not [F] to start a [C] fight
Qui[F]et
And then we’d [G] ride
You know you can [F] grow to hate these crummy little one-horse [C] towns
With the [F] seamy movie houses long [C] closed down
No[F]where to go from here but up or [C] down that road
Noth[G]ing over there but the same G-d damned town
Ano[F]ther sour cof[C]fee cup
One more [F] piece of cardboard [C] pie
Buy a tooth[F]brush and a [C]change of clothes
And then we’d [G] ride.
Al[F]ways at my [C] side
Sleep[F]ing in those [C]narrow beds
And then we’d [G] ride
Drink[F]ing in those [C] dirty bars
Keep[F]ing out of [C] sight
Sleep[F]ing in that [C] cold back seat
And then we’d [G] ride
You know that [F] God damn road seemed like it went for[C]ever
Ex[F]haust fumes made our eyes turn red and [C] swell
With our [F] clothes stuck to the seat and to our [C] bodies
It was the [G] stinking summer trip thorough southern hell
Eat[F]ing carbonated [C] crap
Churn[F]ing up in[C] side
[Gasup Service Station Jobs]
And then we’d [G] ride
Sil[F]ence in the [C] front seat
Trying not [F] to start a [C] fight
Qui[F]et
And then we’d [G] ride
You know you can [F] grow to hate these crummy little one-horse [C] towns
With the [F] seamy movie houses long [C] closed down
No[F]where to go from here but up or [C] down that road
Noth[G]ing over there but the same G-d damned town
Ano[F]ther sour cof[C]fee cup
One more [F] piece of cardboard [C] pie
Buy a tooth[F]brush and a [C]change of clothes
And then we’d [G] ride.
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