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Title: EIGHT MILES HIGH (Clark, McGuinn, Crosby)
INTRO: Em F#m(w/Ebass) G(w/Ebass)
Eight miles high and when you touch down You'll find that it's stranger than known Signs in the street that say where you're going Are somewhere just being their own
No-where is there to be found Among those afraid of losing their ground Mean grey town known for its sound In places small places un-bound
Lead |: Em F#m(w/Ebass) G(w/Ebass) :|
Now the squares of moving storms Some laughing some just shapeless forms Sidewalk scenes and black limosouines Some living some standing alone
_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ This is MY OPINION ONLY! _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ It does not reflect the _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/ _/ opinions of my employer. _/ _/ _/_/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/_/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ _/ Todays music ain't got the same soul, I like that old time rock and roll
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