New Model Army – High (Ukulele)

G                 Em
 Down beneath the swoosh of the turbines,

F                   Em
 The long grass it blows in ripples,

G                    Em
 There’s a beautiful spiral of roads,

F                        
 That lead the lost up here.

G                   Em
 I was watching the birds taking off,

   F                    Em
To swoop down over the city,

G                        Em
 They find and take just what they need,

    F
And turn, turn, turn.

    Am               C
The movers move, the shakers shake,

    Am                   C
The winners write their history,

         Am          C
But from high on the high hills

   Am              C
It all looks like nothing.

    Am               C
The movers move, the shakers shake,

    Am                   C
The winners write their history,

         Am          C
But from high on the high hills

   Am              C
It all looks like nothing.

G                      Em
 That afternoon on the hustler gate,

      F         Em
With all the TVs flickering,

G                 Em
 While behind the sky was moving,

F
Liquid crimson gold.

G                  Em
 Brothers, sisters, pay no heed

       F            Em
To the unfaithful messengers,

G                Em
 For theirs is a prison world,

   F
Of lies, lies, lies.

    Am               C
The movers move, the shakers shake,

    Am                   C
The winners write their history,

         Am          C
But from high on the high hills

   Am              C
It all looks like nothing.

    Am               C
The movers move, the shakers shake,

    Am                   C
The winners write their history,

         Am          C
But from high on the high hills

   Am              C
It all looks like nothing.

D
 The keening wind,

                       F
It blows though me, it blows through me.

D
 My time it must,

          F
Be almost done, be almost done.

Am                   C
All these things you fear so much

  Am                C
Depend on angles of vision.

Am           C
 Down in the maze of walls,

Am                    C
 You can’t see what’s coming,

         Am          C
But from high on the high hills

   Am             C
It all looks like nothing,

     Am          C
From high on the high hills

   Am             C            
It all looks like nothing, nothing.