Ace

F        F  Bb
F        F  Bb
F        F  Bb
F        F

   F              C                 Bb     C      F
It hardly seems a long time, just a minute of the day
        Am              Dm                G             C       C
but the man who stood beside me more than gave himself away;
    F                 C                  Bb         C      F
the food stain on his spotted shirt, the gray beard on his face,
  F               Bb   F         C                 F            F
a man composed of many names, so I just called him Ace.

    Bb                 F                   C              F
But Ace can't read and Ace can't write and he sleeps on a bench at night,
Bb                 C                F          F
  a little man the world has left behind.
Bb                 F               C                F
  He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet, makes his living on the street.
Bb              C               F       F        F      F
  never knowing what he's gonna find.

F             C              Bb     C    F
Born in Mississippi, picking cotton as a child,
   Am                Dm            G                   C       C
he left soon for the city where he heard that life was wild.
    F           C             Bb         C      F
But that was 50 years ago and nothing 's really strange
       F                 Bb    F          C               F            F
from a poor dirt farm to dirty streets is really not much change.

    Bb                 F                   C              F
But Ace can't read and Ace can't write and he sleeps on a bench at night,
Bb                 C                F          F
  a little man the world has left behind.
Bb                 F               C                F
  He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet, makes his living on the street.
Bb              C               F      F
  never knowing what he's gonna find.

Bb      Bb     F      F
C       C      F      F

F              C               Bb     C        F
Go back to the country, now he really can't do that,
Am                Dm               G                C        C
wasted years have left him nothing but an old straw hat.
F             C               Bb      C        F
So he puts it on his head and waves a last goodbye,
F               Bb    F         C              F            F
no time left to turn around and no time to ask why.

    Bb                 F                   C              F
But Ace can't read and Ace can't write and he sleeps on a bench at night,
Bb                 C                F          F
  a little man the world has left behind.
Bb                 F               C                F
  He ain't bitter, he ain't sweet, makes his living on the street,
Bb              C               F      F
  never knowing what he's gonna find
    Bb                 C
and this old world has left poor Ace be - [Outro] hind.

F      F      F      F       X3
F

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.