Masters of war  Bob Dylan

##song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. ##corrected lyrics:  "Benjamin L. Weiss" #This is my approximation of how this song is played:#Masters of War -- Bob Dylan[Am]      [Am7]    [Am]   [Am]Come you masters [Am]of [Am7]war


[Am]You that build the big g[Am]uns[Am7]


You that build the death[Am] pl[Am7]anes[Am]


You that build all the bom[Am]bs


[Am]You that hide behind wa[Am]lls[Am7]


You that hide behind des[Am]ks


[Am]I just [C]want you to [G]know I can [F]see through your [Am]masks


And the song just continues in that vein for the rest of the


verses:


You that never have done nothin' but build to destroy


You play with my world like it's your little toy


You put a gun in my hand then you hide from my eyes


Then you turn and run farther when the fast bullets fly


Like Judas of old you lie and deceive


A world war can't be won, and you want me to believe


But I see through your eyes and I see through your brain


Like I see through the water that runs down my drain


You that fasten all the triggers for the others to fire


Then you sit back and watch while the death count gets


higher


You hide in your mansions while the young people's blood


Flows out of their bodies and gets buried in the mud


You've thrown the worst fear that can ever be hurled


Fear to bring children into the world


For threatening my baby, unborn and unnamed


You ain't worth the blood that runs in your veins


How much do I know to talk out of turn


You might say that I'm young, you might say I'm unlearned


But there's one thing I know, though I'm younger than you


Even Jesus would never forgive what you do


Let me ask you one question:  is your money that good?


Will it buy you forgiveness?  Do you think that it could?


I think you will find when your death takes its toll


All the money you made won't ever buy back your soul


And I hope that you die and your death will come soon


I'll follow your casket through the pale afternoon


And I'll watch while you're lowered into your death bed


Then I'll stand over your grave till I'm sure that you're


dead


*Corrections to lyrics or chords would be most welcome.*


[--]*"Do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real


and*


*in the present tense?   Or that everybody's on the stage


and it*


*seems like you're  the only  person sitting  in the


audience?"*


*                           -Ian Anderson


*


*   Something to think about,


*


*        Julie Gladman jgladman@uoguelph.ca


*