...BODYGUARD... by Steel Pulse
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*from 'Earth Crisis' (1984)*
Intro:
C#m Abm, F#m Abm A, Abm
C#m Abm, F#m Abm, Dmaj7
A, (x2)
Verse 1:
Every time you meet, the public,
You get scared and you, start to pa-nic.
Bridge 1:
A-who, got A gun? A-who got A bomb?
Who, got a knife? A-who's... gonna lose their life?
Verse 2:
So-called leaders, with deceitful faces,
Cor-ruption, in a high place.
You hands filled with bribes; mouth pours out lies, yea.
Cause of all op-pression now, running for pro-tection.
Chorus 1:
Bodyguard; I wouldn't like your job,
(Snakes in the grass), say they know not God.
Poly-tricksters, drinking human blood,
(A concrete heart), can hold no love.
Interlude:
A,
Verse 3:
I just can't sorry for the bodyguard.
Bullet-proof vest strapped to your chest,
Under your collar is getting hot.
Bridge 2:
A-who, got A gun? A-who got A bomb?
Who, got a knife? A-who's... gonna lose their life?
Chorus 2:
Bodyguard; I wouldn't like your job,
(Snakes in the grass), say they know not God.
Poly-tricksters, drinking human blood,
(A concrete heart), can hold no love.
Chorus 3:
Bodyguard; I wouldn't like your job,
(Snakes in the grass), say they know not God.
Poly-tricksters, drinking human blood,
(A concrete heart), can hold no love.
Break:
B, F#7, B,
C#m B, C#m F#7, C#m, F#m Abm, Dmaj7
Verse 4:
Hey, hey, no feel no way,
I just can't sorry for the bodyguard.
Bridge 3:
A-who, got A gun? A-who got A bomb?
Who, got a knife? A-who's... gonna lose their life?
Chorus 4:
Bodyguard; I wouldn't like your job,
(Snakes in the grass), say they know not God.
Poly-tricksters, drinking human blood,
(A concrete heart), can hold no love.
Chorus 5:
Bodyguard; I wouldn't like your job,
(Snakes in the grass), say they know not God.
Poly-tricksters, drinking human blood,
(A concrete heart), can hold no love.
Coda:
Watch it all you presidents, boo!
Heads of government, boo!
Mash down parliaments, boo!
I just can't sorry for the bodyguard.
(A who's gonna lose their life?)
I just can't sorry for the bodyguard.
(A who's gonna lose their life?)
All that fretting, all that checking.
(Gonna lose their life?)
All that searching, for assassin, hey!
(Fade)
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| ___| | | | | | | | |\_/| | __| | \ /
| |= = | | | |_| | | | = | | |____| | |
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| |___ | | = = = | | | | | |
|_____| | | |_| |_| | |
= = = | |_____ = = Tabbed by |_|
|_______| Joel from cLuMsY, 2008 =
= = = = (clumsyband@hotmail.com)