Gethsemane

Tabbed by: Ron Maier
E-mail: maieron@gmx.at
Tuning:Standard
 Here I got sort of a basic Version from this great song ..
   A
It started with the moon
               E                   F#m
that turned an inexpensive room into St. Peters.
          A                        E
There’s a parabolic story, but it’s boring
        F#m
and it ends how you’d expect.
   A
Forever dressing down
         F#m
I’m like a stranger
                         G
hanging round outside the kingdom hall.
                    F#m
I’d ‘ve carried your wedding shawl,
                               E
you could’ve said I was a school friend.
        Bm                             D
And you drag your holy horse cart in the sky
when I wake up
              Bm
they say it’s just the sun
               A
but I know that face.
 A                              E
Excavating down you’d find the drowning and the drowned
                 F#m
and then there’s us, babe.
          A                                E
You could walk to our memorial, but it’s pourring
         F#m
and it ends how you’d expect.
   A
I dig your dresses out
            F#m
and hang ‘em round about the house
              G
and turn the lights down low.
                F#m
Now you’re everywhere I go
                    E
looking faintly disappointed.
         Bm                              D
And you drag your holy horse cart in the sky
when I wake up
              Bm
they say it’s just the sun
                 A         (G#5)
but I know that face.
F#m
But the devil’s tricks
                              A     (B5)
just seem to sit so light on you.
F#m
They’d never get the Marionette
               A
this tight on you.
      Bm
In the parliamentary houses
            D
there’ll be talk of what this is
        Bm                            A
with inexpert witnesses and evidence against us.
        Bm
But I’ll take my pound of substance
            D
from those insubstantial men.
               Bm
Whatever their arguments,
                A
I’ll prove your innocence.
 D
Drag your holy horse cart in the sky
                    A
when I wake up, oh yeah.
 D
Testify allegiance with more
                                A
puncture wounds than Jesus, oh yeah.
      D
Every statue’s weeping honey
and it makes my sight go funny
           A
‘cause I’m over sympathetic
and I can’t control myself.
 D
Leave that painful memory
                              A           E        A
in the garden of Gethsemane, oh yeah, oh yeah.