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Love Minus Zero/No Limit

Höfundur lags: Bob Dylan Höfundur texta: Bob Dylan Flytjandi: Bob Dylan Sent inn af: cazteclo
My [C]love she speaks like silence,
[G]    [F] Without ideals or [C]violence,
[G]    [F] She doesn't have to say she's [C]faithful,
Yet she's [Dm]true, like [F]ice, like [G]fire.
[C]People carry roses,
[G]    [F] And make promises by the [C]hours,
[G]    [F] My love she laughs like the[C] flowers,
[Dm]Valentines[G] can't [C]buy her.

In the d[C]ime stores and bus stations,
[G]    [F]People talk of situ[C]ations,
[G]    [F]Read books, repeat [C]quotations,
Draw con[Dm]clusions [F]on the [G]wall.
[C]Some speak of the future,
[G]    [F]My love she speaks [C]softly,
[G]    [F]She knows there's no success like f[C]ailure
And that [Dm]failure's no [G]success at [C]all.

[C]The cloak and dagger dangles,
[G]    [F]Madams light the c[C]andles.
[G]    [F]In ceremonies of the [C]horsemen,
Even the [Dm]pawn must [F]hold a g[G]rudge.
[C]Statues made of match sticks,
[G]    [F]Crumble into one a[C]nother,
[G]    [F]My love winks, she does not [C]bother,
She [Dm]knows too much to [G]argue or to [C]judge.

[C]The bridge at midnight trembles,
[G]    [F]The country doctor [C]rambles,
[G]    [F]Bankers' nieces seek [C]perfection,
Expecting all the [Dm]gifts that [F]wise men [G]bring.
The [C]wind howls like a hammer,
[G]    [F]The night blows cold and [C]rainy,
[G]    [F]My love she's like some [C]raven
At my [Dm]window with a [G]broken [C]wing.

My love she speaks like silence,
Without ideals or violence,
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire.
People carry roses,
And make promises by the hours,
My love she laughs like the flowers,
Valentines can't buy her.

In the dime stores and bus stations,
People talk of situations,
Read books, repeat quotations,
Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future,
My love she speaks softly,
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all.

The cloak and dagger dangles,
Madams light the candles.
In ceremonies of the horsemen,
Even the pawn must hold a grudge.
Statues made of match sticks,
Crumble into one another,
My love winks, she does not bother,
She knows too much to argue or to judge.

The bridge at midnight trembles,
The country doctor rambles,
Bankers' nieces seek perfection,
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring.
The wind howls like a hammer,
The night blows cold and rainy,
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing.

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