Admiral Fallow

Subbuteo

Admiral Fallow

cavaco Intermediate intermediate

by  VSWORLD

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Subbuteo

Written by Louis Abbott/Admiral Fallow

	  		
Verse 1: 

E 
Hello, my chum 
                                       C#m  
It's me and I'm banging on your door 
           B 
It's been far too long 
                                             A 
Since we set the leaves alight down on the floor 

      E 
I've returned for a while 
                                            C#m 
To the concrete that once claimed my knees 
          B 
And the stones my hands owned 
                                    A 
As I sent them toward windows and trees 

 

          F#m 
Towering trees 
           B   -   B7   -   E 
Towering trees 

Verse 2 

E 
There are bangers in the wheely bins 
                                   C#m 
Lazer pens shone through the glass 
    B 
And BB after BB fired 
                                  A 
From behind the wall beyond the grass 

             E 
And though boots met my face 
                                        C#m 
And knuckles cracked me black as coal 
        B 
I care not for the mindless 
                                 A 
Who poked fear at my sorry soul 

 

    F#m 
My soul 
     B   -   B7 
My soul 

Verse 3: 

                E 
And I miss the rain on the roof 
                                   C#m 
Pitstop paths and whistling streams 
               B 
I miss the Coldstream chips 
                                A 
The red subbuteo team painted green 

E 
Built on back fields, 
                              C#m 
It seemed a thorn in my child side 
                   B 
Instead became a grit-soaked playground 
                                  A 
Where the propers and the poor collide 

Bridge:
 
         E 
Oh, it might sound dull 
                                  C#m 
But dull's sometimes all we have 
           B 
Yeah, it might sound dull 
                         A 
But dull's all we ever have 

Refrain: 
          E 
Sometimes I talk with the meter 
                                   C#m 
Of a bingo caller's east-end drawl 
                  B 
Who cares; we're all just trying to float 
             B                 A 
While everything seems set to fall 



   F#m 
So hard 
 B     B7 
So hard   
		  

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