High

(Am C)x8

G Em

Down beneath the swoosh of the turbines,

F Em

The long grass it blows in ripples,

G Em

There's a beautiful spiral of roads,

F

That lead the lost up here.

G Em

I was watching the birds taking off,

F Em

To swoop down over the city,

G Em

They find and take just what they need,

F

And turn, turn, turn.

Am C

The movers move, the shakers shake,

Am C

The winners write their history,

Am C

But from high on the high hills

Am C

It all looks like nothing.

Am C

The movers move, the shakers shake,

Am C

The winners write their history,

Am C

But from high on the high hills

Am C

It all looks like nothing.

G Em

That afternoon on the hustler gate,

F Em

With all the TVs flickering,

G Em

While behind the sky was moving,

F

Liquid crimson gold.

G Em

Brothers, sisters, pay no heed

F Em

To the unfaithful messengers,

G Em

For theirs is a prison world,

F

Of lies, lies, lies.

D

The keening wind,

F

It blows though me, it blows through me.

D

My time it must,

F

Be almost done, be almost done.

(Am C)x4

Am C

All these things you fear so much

Am C

Depend on angles of vision.

Am C

Down in the maze of walls,

Am C

You can't see what's coming,

Am C

But from high on the high hills

Am C

It all looks like nothing,

Am C

From high on the high hills

Am C (Am C)x4 D5 E5 C5 D5 (Am C)x4 D5 E5 C5 D5 Am

It all looks like nothing, nothing