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Last Year Of The Blue Men by Kenny Young







             Last Year Of The Blue Men 








Capo: 1st fret

 
| E | C#m | B | B | E | G#m | A | A |
 
         E                             B
It's the last year of the Blue Men who watchdog Part Two Heaven
A                           E
Giving way to young ones in nineteen ninety seven
    E                             F#m
Who follow in their footsteps and wear the breathing masks
    E               B              A               E
And answer all your questions, and ration out your tasks
 
              C#m             G#m       F#m            E
There will be time enough for love, and room enough to play
    E               B          A             E
For planting Pieces babies, or passing time away
              C#m             G#m          F#m             E
There will be time enough for thought, and room enough for words
     E                 B            A                  E
That float like pillow feathers and sing just like the birds
 
E                           B
Stock up your provisions, devise a shell rock shelter
      A                             E
Where jovial ceilings smile down on every room you enter
      E                            F#m
Paint windows in your gardens, and windmills on your doors
    E             B           A             E
And lock away the memory that Daddy died in war
 
              C#m             G#m       F#m            E
There will be time enough for love, and room enough to play
    E               B          A             E
For planting Pieces babies, or passing time away
 
| C#m G#m | F#m E | E B | A E | E <> |
 
C#m            G#m          E
. Turn in your number for a color bye
A          G#m           F#                B   - A - G#m - F#m
Trade in tomorrow's cake . for yesterday's pie - i - i --- i
 
         E                               B
It's the last year of the full moon that shines on Part Two Heaven
    A                                 E
But we still play the moon songs from nineteen fifty seven
    E                         F#m
The files of pleasure photos, recall us to our prime
    E              B           A                    C#m
And rock-a-bye us, lullabye us back to the good old times
 
 






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