G
|
Picasso leans out of the window, looks out on the ghetto
|
Am
|
Changing the shapes he sees.
|
D
|
His old friend El Greco, soon is expected,
|
G
|
Now just an echo of Spanish seas.
|
Em
|
And outside, the people stare;
|
Am
|
Wondering what's going on in there!
|
D G
|
Tossing the dice; they pay the price, so they can compare.
|
|
CHORUS:
|
Am D G /Em
|
And the holy (words/works?) of love and reverence
|
C Bm E
|
Fell beneath the floods of Florence.
|
|
The shop girls go out to the galleries spending their salaries
|
To see if they catch a hold.
|
They meet an old master, like some unknown lover,
|
For some unknown reason he's never old.
|
And the auctioneer clears his throat,
|
What am I bid for this bottled boat?
|
A tap on the rail
|
Sunk with a sail, but soon she's afloat. (chorus)
|
|
Griffith pulls out his whiskey; the mad room is misty
|
Covered with yesterdays.
|
The girl is so pretty, she asks for a memory.
|
He touches her knee and she fades away.
|
But the box office line is long;
|
The spectacular show is on.
|
Thirsty for thrills, the fountain is filled
|
With dreams of the dawn. (chorus)
|
|
The troubador comes from the country, falls by the factory,
|
Sliding on simple strings.
|
Armed with his anger, he sings of the danger
|
He senses a stranger is in the wings.
|
But the fledgling has learned to fly;
|
All of the innocence leaves his eye.
|
Echoes explode, rolled from the road--
|
The melody dies. (chorus)
|
|
-----------------
|
The Floods of Florence
|
Phil Ochs |