Declan Patrick MacManus nacido en Londres el 25 de agosto de 1954, conocido como Elvis Costello, es un músico, cantante y compositor británico.
Se inició en la escena pub-rock londinense a mitad de los 70 desde donde vio llegar como observador privilegiado la New Wave y el punk, movimientos con los que se asoció.
En 1975 McManus llevaba una aparente vida convencional, casado y con hijo, y empleándose en diferentes trabajos administrativos. No obstante
¡Cuatro años de duro trabajo!Este mes de mayo cumplimos cuatro años al aire. Seguimos trabajando en la difusión de este maravilloso instrumento, ¡gracias por participar en nuestra historia!
#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE---------------------------------# #This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the # #song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. # #------------------------------------------------------------------------------## From: [email protected] Subject: Elvis_Costello AfterTheFall.crd
After The Fall - Elvis Costello
AmEAm In an anonymous rendez-vous where the forbidden lovers repair CG They're burning down another damn candle EFmaj7 they're melting the tables and chairs AmE Beneath them applause from the balcony Am whenever they accomplished making love CG Other times they thought they heard laughter E Fmaj7 (here there obviously is more....) coming from the balcony above
GD She lies to his right and she carelessly resites EmD All of her brand new appetites GD She seems brittle and small it don't sound like her at all EmE Since she came back to him After the fall
She said You never visited the countryside So I've made you a country to order She put up a little tent in the bedroom Crickets played on a tape recorder The ceiling was festooned with phosphorous stars She noticed his skin turning cold Burning all his clothes on the bonfire Relax she whispered and tightened the blindfold
She lies to his right.....
You've changed but not for the better, babe I'd tell you why but what's the use 'Cause it's the same kind of pity a drunkard gives as his excuse You were sharp and ideal as a bobby pin Now your eyes are deserted and quiet We both look like those poor shattered mannequins Thrown through the window in the riot
She lies in his arms and without any qualms Revels in shallow delights She seems brittle and small it don't look like her at all Since she came back to him After the fall