Gene Clark, nacido Harold Eugene Clark (Tipton, Missouri, 17 de noviembre de 1944– 24 de mayo de 1991) fue un cantautor estadounidense, y uno de los fundadores del grupo de folk-rock The Byrds.
Gene Clark es recordado por ser el principal compositor en los Byrds entre 1964 y 1966. Creó un gran catálogo de canciones en varios estilos, pero no logró obtener éxito comercial. Clark fue uno de los primeros ejemplos de rock psicodélico, pop barroco, newgrass, country rock y country alternativo.
¡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!
F#mBmF#mBm On her biggest wall, she hung Warhol F#mBmF#mBm And wishes she had never used F#mBmF#mBm The last magazine, in which she was seen F#mBmF#mBm Was sold to the self abused
AEBmF#m This lovely one holds an empty gun DBm And swears it was done on a dare AEBmF#m Her only fear, is that her career, DBm Has been damaged beyond repair B Intro Down on Washington Square
The summer breeze, blows the shades off the window As she stares out on to Seventh Avenue She sees a rastafarian, out on the corner, Trying to sell his point of view
Without affection, she tells her connection, "I need a fix this just isn't fair" And he takes a walk, around the block, And disappears into thin air Into Washington Square
EF#mE I sit here all alone F# Wondering when they will come
She reads every page of Vogue Magazine, Studies every single look She came on the scene, behind amphetamines, And left before they finished the book
Mirror, mirror, on the wall Does this mean that you no longer care? You used to tell her that she was the one But now that you're no longer here She stands and stares out on Washington Square
EF# Doesn't anybody understand she needs someone, EF# Blown away in the loft, late at night into oblivion,
She found her bag of troubles and tricks Down on Commerce Avenue All the muggers, all the whores and the thieves Told her, all of her dreams would come true
"Jeanine" they said, "she set her old man free, Down at the Chelsea, just before he disappeared" She takes a walk, around the block And picks up a few volunteers And takes a stand out on Washington Square.
I saw an art show I saw Jaco Pastorius Walking across the street He was mumbling mumbling something about Someone that he had to meet
It was that lovely one with an empty gun Who did it on a dare Came on the scene wearing tennis shoes and jeans And vanished into thin air she disappeared
It's the new sound of thunder It's not purple rain It's the new southern California And New York City again.