Guadalupe

D  C    G

There are ghosts out in the rain tonight
                         Am
High up in those ancient trees
                        D
And I have given up without a fight
                      G
Another blind fool on his knees
And all the gods that I've abandoned
                         Am
Begin to speak in simple tongue
                    D
And, suddenly, I've come to know
                                G
That there are no roads left to run

Now it's the hour of dogs a-barking
                                 Am
That's what the old ones used to say
                          D
It's first light, or it's sundown
                                G
Before the children cease their play
And when the mountains glow like mission wine
                            Am
Or turn grey like a Spanish roan
                       D
Ten thousand eyes will stop to worship
                             G
Then turn away, and head for home

                            C
And she is reaching out her arms tonight
                        G
And, yes, my poverty is real
                        Am          D
I pray roses shall rain down again
                       G
From Guadalupe, on her hill
                                C
And, who am I to doubt these mysteries
                      G
Cured in centuries of blood, and candle smoke?
                              Am          D
I am the least of all your pilgrims here
                         G
But I am most in need of hope

G    Am    D      G

                       G
She appeared to Juan Diego
                          Am
She left her image on his cape
                      D
Five hundred years of sorrow
                             G
Cannot destroy their deepest faith
So, here I am, your ragged disbeliever
                            Am
A doubting Thomas drowns in tears
                            D
As I watch your church sink through the earth
                                G
Like a heart worn down through fear

                            C
And she is reaching out her arms tonight
                        G
And, yes, my poverty is real
                        Am          D
I pray roses shall rain down again
                       G
From Guadalupe, on her hill
                                C
And, who am I to doubt these mysteries
                      G
Cured in centuries of blood, and candle smoke?
                              Am          D
I am the least of all your pilgrims here
                         G
But I am most in need of hope
                              Am          D
I am the least of all your pilgrims here
                         G
But I am most in need of hope

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