We Cant Make It Here por James McMurtry, tablaturas y acordes en PlayUkuleleNET

We Cant Make It Here

Biografía:

James McMurtry, born March 18, 1962, Fort Worth, Texas, is an American rock and folk-rock/americana singer, songwriter, guitarist, bandleader and occasional actor (Daisy Miller, Lonesome Dove). He performs with veteran bandmates and rhythm section The Heartless Bastards.
His father, novelist Larry McMurtry, gave him his first guitar at age seven. His mother, an English professor, taught him how to play it: "My mother taught me three chords and the rest I just stole as I went along. I learned everything by ear or by watching people."

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¡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!

[Intro]
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There's a Vietnam Vet with a cardboard sign sitting there by the left turn line
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Flag on the wheelchair flapping in the breeze, one leg missing and both hands free
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No one's paying much mind to him, the V.A. budget's just stretched so thin
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And there's more comin' home from the Mideast war, we can't make it here anymore

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And that big ol' building was the textile mill, it fed our kids and it paid our bills
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But they turned us out and they closed the doors, we can't make it here anymore

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See those pallets piled up on the loading dock, they're just gonna set there till they rot
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'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to pack, just busted concrete and rusted tracks
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Empty storefronts around the square, there's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhere
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You don't come down here 'less you're looking to score, we can't make it here anymore

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The bar's still open but man it's slow, the tip jar's light and the register's low
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The bartender don't have much to say, the regular crowd gets thinner each day
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Some have maxed out all their credit cards, some are working two jobs and living in cars
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Minimum wage don't pay for a roof, don't pay for a drink, if you gotta have proof
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Just try it yourself Mr. CEO See how far 5.15 an hour will go
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Take a part time job at one of your stores I bet you can't make it here anymore

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And there's a high school girl with a bourgeois dream, just like the pictures in the magazine
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She found on the floor of the Laundromat, a woman with kids can forget all that
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If she comes up pregnant what'll she do, forget the career, forget about school
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Can she live on faith? live on hope, high on Jesus or hooked on dope
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When it's way too late to just say no, you can't make it here anymore

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Now I'm stocking shirts in the Wal-Mart store just like the ones we made before
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'Cept this one came from Singapore, I guess we can't make it here anymore

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Should I hate a people for the shade of their skin or the shape of their eyes or the shape I'm in
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Should I hate 'em for having our jobs today, no I hate the men sent the jobs away
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I can see them all now, they haunt my dreams, all lily white and squeaky clean
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They've never known want, they'll never know need, their s**t don't stink and their kids won't bleed
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Their kids won't bleed in the damn little war and we can't make it here anymore

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Will work for food, will die for oil, will kill for power and to us the spoils
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The billionaires get to pay less tax, the working poor get to fall through the cracks
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Let 'em eat jellybeans, let 'em eat cake, let 'em eat s**t, whatever it takes
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They can join the Air Force, or join the Corps if they can't make it here anymore

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And that's how it is, that's what we got if the president wants to admit it or not
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You can read it in the paper, read it on the wall, hear it on the wind, if you're listening at all
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Get out of that limo, look us in the eye, call us on the cell phone, tell us all why
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In Dayton, Ohio or Portland, Maine or a cotton gin out on the great high plains
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That's done closed down along with the school and the hospital and the swimming pool
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Dust devils dance in the noonday heat, there's rats in the alley and trash in the street
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Gang graffiti on a boxcar door, we can't make it here anymore

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