Don McLean - Homeless brother

I was ^G7walking by the graveyard ^Clate last Friday night I ^Eheard somebody yelling it ^Amsounded like a fight It was ^Fjust a drunken ^Chobo dancing ^Amcircles in the ^Fnight Pouring ^Cwhiskey on the ^Ghead stones in the ^Fblue moon ligh^Ct So o^Fften have I w^Gondered where those h^Comeless ^Ebrothers g^Amo ^D7Down in some hidden valley where their ^Gsorrows cannot show Where the ^Fpolice cannot ^Cfind them where the ^Amwanted man ca^Fn go There's ^Cfreedom when you're ^Gwalking even ^Fthough you are walking ^Cslow

Smash your ^Fbottle on the ^Ggrave stone and ^Clive while you ^Ecan^Am That ^D7homeless ^G7brother is my f^Criend

It's ^Ghard to be a pack rat It's ^Chard to be a 'bo But ^Eliving's so much harder where the ^Amheartless people go Some^Fwhere the dogs are ^Cbarking and the c^Amhildren seem to kn^Fow That ^CJesus on the ^Ghighway was a ^Flost hob^Co And they ^Fhear the holy ^Gsilence of the ^Ctemples in the ^Ehill^Am And they s^D7ee the ragged tatters as an^Gother kind of frill And they ^Fenvy him the ^Csunshine and they ^Ampity him the ^Fchill and they are s^Cad to do their ^Gliving for some ^Fother kind of ^Cthrill

Smash your ^Fbottle on the ^Ggrave stone and ^Clive while you ^Ecan^Am That ^D7homeless ^G7brother is my f^Criend

Some^Gwhere there was a woman some^Cwhere there was a child Some^Ewhere there was a cottage Where the ^Ammarigolds grew wild But ^Fsomewhere's just like ^Cnowhere when you ^Amleave it for a while^F You'll ^Cfind the broken h^Gearted when you're ^Ftrav'ling jungle style^C Down the ^Fbowels of a ^Gbroken land where ^Cnumbers live like ^Emen^Am Where ^D7those who keep their senses have them ^Gtaken back again Where the ^Fnight stick cracks with ^Ccrazy rage where ^Ammadmen don't pre^Ftend Where ^Cwealth has no be^Gginning and ^Fpoverty no ^Cend

Smash your ^Fbottle on the ^Ggrave stone and ^Clive while you ^Ecan^Am That ^D7homeless ^G7brother is my f^Criend

The ^Gghosts of highway royalty have ^Cvanished in the night The ^EWhitman wanderer walking t'ward a ^Amglowing inner light The ^Fchildren have grown ^Colder and the ^Amcops have gripped us ^Ftight There's ^Cno spot round the m^Gelting pot for ^Ffree men in their f^Cight And y^Fou who live on p^Gromises and pr^Cosper as you ^Epleas^Ame The ^D7victim of your riches often ^Gdies of your disease He can't ^Fhear the fact'ry ^Cwhistle just the ^Amlonesome freight train's ^Fwheeze He's l^Civing on good f^Gortune he ain't d^Fying on his ^Cknees

Smash your ^Fbottle on the ^Ggrave stone and ^Clive while you ^Ecan^Am That ^D7homeless ^G7brother is my f^Criend That ^D7homeless ^G7brother is my ^Cfriend