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Pastures Of Plenty (Letra)

Curso de Violão - Fórmula Violão

B. r. hornsby

Hey now, where are you going
Where are you going to my friend
Said i’m going out to find
The pastures of plenty
I believe they’re out there somewhere

Did you hear about the girl
Alone in the world
Thought she was losing her mind
She found it in the discarded refuse pile
Down near the railroad line
A book of sonnets torn and tattered
A few remained intact
One held the key, she said to me
To getting some feeling back

Sometimes my head turns round and round
Sometimes you talk but i can’t hear a sound
Sometimes i look down, find my feet off the ground
I feel that i’m somewhere else bound

Hey now, where are you going
Where are you going to my friend
Said i’m going out to find
The pastures of plenty
I believe they’re out there somewhere

She looked down the railroad tracklined with trees on each side
She prayed for the strength to run to the boxcar
To pull herself up for the ride

You invite me to your house – you’re so sincere
We sit so close for a while
You reach out for me in the low light so clear
But you look like you’re frowning when you smile

Hanging around just to see what could happen
Hanging on by oh, the thinnest thread
Sometimes i see the faintest glimpse
Sometimes i feel i’d be better off in bed

Hey now, where are you going
Where are you going to my friend
Said i’m going out to find
The pastures of plenty
I believe they’re out there somewhere

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Pastures Of Plenty (Letra)

Bruce Hornsby

Bruce Hornsby

Curso de Violão - Fórmula Violão

It’s a mighty hard row that my poor hands have hoed
My poor feet have traveled that hot dusty road
Out of the dust bowl and westward we rolled
Your desert was hot and your mountains were cold

I’ve worked in your orchards of peaches and prunes
I’ve slept on the ground in the light of your moon
On the edge of your city you’ve seen us and then
We come with the dust and we go with the wind

California, arizona, i make all your crops
Then north up to oregon to gather your hogs
Pull the beets from your ground, cut the grapes from your vine
To set on your table your light, sparkling wine

Green pastures of plenty from dry desert ground
From the grand coulee dam where the water runs down
Every state in this union us migrants have been
We’ll work in your fight and we’ll fight til we win

Well it’s always we ramble that river and i
All along your green valley i’ll work til i die
My land i’ll defend with my life if need be
Cause my pastures of plenty must always be free