Basket FullsGmWhy doesn't He want me to get it D# then gives it to me in basketfulls. Cm How come these days like horses. Gm How go these days like bulls. Somewhere in amazing grace a young man turns fifty-four. Only we can make a diamond. Only we go door to door. Why would he steal from a lost soul the light that might lead him forth. To what height do we aspire if blessed are the poor? Enslave me truth as if I had eyes and swipe these terrifies tears. I will raise my glass to you and drink to you fifty-four beers. |