Biografia:
Acoustic guitar/vocalist, Mischief Brew, and previously the Orphans.
Read more on Last.fm
Quatro anos de trabalho duro!Neste mês de maio fizemos quatro anos no ar. Continuamos trabalhando na divulgação deste maravilhoso instrumento, obrigado por participar da nossa história!
Erik Petersen – For an Old Kentucky Anarchist
C F Am
G
High upon a forgotten mountain top, lay a garden, untended and dry
C G Am
G
'twas a yard that hadn't felt children's feet running, for the mother long
F G C
ago, taught her children how to fly
C F
Within a simple cabin, untouched by industrial hands
Am G
Sat the aging mother in her home
C G Am G
You can’t escape the picture frames, there’s too many, she said
F G C
They keep me from being alone
C F Am
G
Well she spoke, "he was an honest man, he worked hard to put food on our plates
C G Am G
F
Well we had more babies than we had arms, we struggled all our lives
G C
But the rewards were great
C F Am
G
And when my son came home from the war, he rested his head on my breast
C G Am
F
And said, “mom, I’m tired of being used and grinded down, I feel so low
G C
Can you make me feel like I’m the best?”
C F Am
G
Well my best friend truly wed a savage man, he wore her like a bad tattoo
C G Am G
F G C
For his only love was for the bottle, she said there’s only one thing left for me to do
C F Am
G
To be wild once again, to take back my life and run away, set flames to his truck
C G Am G
G C
He won’t ever know he’s been missing I did every day, joy freedom, dance, and love
C F Am G
Dance and love..."
C F
These are the stories that this mother spoke to me,
Am G C G
As I brought her garden back to grow. I was rewarded with a warm meal
Am G F
C
Tales never to be heard, some call it poverty, but they’ll never know
C F
G
She said “All I’ve got is my stories and this old guitar, my crops have all come and
away,
C G Am G
F G C
I’ve got a head full of recipies,enticing to the taste and a liking to wake up and greet
day
C F Am
G
Got bad back from raising my children, from hugging my husband so tight
C G Am G
F G C
Hell, I’ve never cared much for any government, I’ve got my jesus when I feel the time
right,
C F Am
G C G
Singin’ I’m the richest I'll ever be, I embrace the world I have all around me. So sing
dying song, and
Am G F G C
slap your knee, Have a taste of true anarchy
C F Am G
Yeah, anarchy
C F Am
G
High upon a forgotten mountain top, lay a garden, untended and dry
C G Am
G
'twas a yard that hadn't felt children's feet running, for the mother long
F G C
ago, taught her children how to fly
C F
Within a simple cabin, untouched by industrial hands
Am G
Sat the aging mother in her home
C G Am G
You can’t escape the picture frames, there’s too many, she said
F G C
They keep me from being alone
C F Am
G
Well she spoke, "he was an honest man, he worked hard to put food on our plates
C G Am G
F
Well we had more babies than we had arms, we struggled all our lives
G C
But the rewards were great
C F Am
G
And when my son came home from the war, he rested his head on my breast
C G Am
F
And said, “mom, I’m tired of being used and grinded down, I feel so low
G C
Can you make me feel like I’m the best?”
C F Am
G
Well my best friend truly wed a savage man, he wore her like a bad tattoo
C G Am G
F G C
For his only love was for the bottle, she said there’s only one thing left for me to do
C F Am
G
To be wild once again, to take back my life and run away, set flames to his truck
C G Am G
G C
He won’t ever know he’s been missing I did every day, joy freedom, dance, and love
C F Am G
Dance and love..."
C F
These are the stories that this mother spoke to me,
Am G C G
As I brought her garden back to grow. I was rewarded with a warm meal
Am G F
C
Tales never to be heard, some call it poverty, but they’ll never know
C F
G
She said “All I’ve got is my stories and this old guitar, my crops have all come and
away,
C G Am G
F G C
I’ve got a head full of recipies,enticing to the taste and a liking to wake up and greet
day
C F Am
G
Got bad back from raising my children, from hugging my husband so tight
C G Am G
F G C
Hell, I’ve never cared much for any government, I’ve got my jesus when I feel the time
right,
C F Am
G C G
Singin’ I’m the richest I'll ever be, I embrace the world I have all around me. So sing
dying song, and
Am G F G C
slap your knee, Have a taste of true anarchy
C F Am G
Yeah, anarchy
Ernest W. Blandy
Ernie Halter
Ernst Busch
Eros Ramazzotti
Erpeche & Za (...)