Carteado Curta Do Térsio - 3 25 15, 1.55 AM

Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
Hollis Brown
He lived on the outside of town
With his wife and five children
And his cabin brokin' down.

You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
You looked for work and money
And you walked a rugged mile
Your children are so hungry
That they don't know how to smile.

Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
Your baby's eyes look crazy
They're a-tuggin' at your sleeve
You walk the floor and wonder why
With every breath you breathe.

The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
The rats have got your flour
Bad blood it got your mare
If there's anyone that knows
Is there anyone that cares ?

You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
You prayed to the Lord above
Oh please send you a friend
Your empty pocket tell you
That you ain't a-got no friend.

Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your babies are crying louder now
It's pounding on your brain
Your wife's screams are stabbin' you
Like the dirty drivin' rain.

Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your grass is turning black
There's no water in your well
Your spent your last lone dollar
On seven shotgun shels.

Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Way out in the wilderness
A cold coyote calls
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That's hangin' on the wall.

Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your brain is a-bleedin'
And your legs can't seem to stand
Your eyes fix on the shortgun
That you're holdin' in your hand.

There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
There's seven breezes a-blowin'
All around the cabin door
Seven shots ring out
Like the ocean's pounding roar.

There's seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
There's seven people dead
On a south Dakota farm
Somewhere in the distance
There's seven new people born.


Ballad of hollis brown (Bob Dylan cover)

Am6                    Abº7
Cínico o sorriso, epiléptico,
Bø                    E7b9     Eº
Mórbido, dos sentidos subservientes
Dm7            Dm7/F     Am9      C7(13)
Âncora desinibido e elétrico, anuncia
B7                                 G#º
Vomitando verossímeis vertentes



A6                E7(9)
Pinte a tua propina, homem de bem
Bm7           Bb7(13)     A6          Bm7 E7
O que eu disser é a verdade, arraso
A6             Em7 A7          Dmaj7            Ebº
Paga a tua parte, que eu faço a minha arte
A6             F#7         Bm7      E7      A6
E a gente apaga o que não vem ao caso



Am7        Abº7             Bø                E7b9       Am7
Safado, pilantra, não tem que dar notícia no jornal
A7              Dm7
Farsante, delirante
Ebº                                      E7
Mentindo para o povo em rede nacional



A6                                             Bm                      
Esse samba é pra quem tem a oportunidade
Bm                   E7                   A6                E7
De passar pra população nossa realidade
A6                                        Dmaj7 Ebº                                    
Mas joga sua função no lixo pelo seu patrão
A6      F#7   B7          Bm7 E7   A6
Golpistas, fascistas, não passarão

Racistas, machistas, não passarão
Jornalistas elitistas, não passarão!!

Não Passarão

Gravação caseira da Valsa da Sua Tia

Composição: Eric Hirsch & Wendell Graham Bell

Voz e violão: Eric Hirsch

Escaleta: Samuel Cartes

Percussão: Carol Oliveira

Valsa Da Sua Tia (ensaio)

Eric Hirsch: Guitarra e backing
Wendell Graham Bell: Voz principal
Roberto Hirsch: Baixo
Mateus Rahal Sala Polati: Bateria

Produção: Itamar Collaço
Mixagem: Éric F. Yoshino

Eric Hirsch

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