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How To Explain Cat Empire Tabbed by Damsk1849 I'm pretty sure a lot of this is right. I'm least certain about the end of the chorus "music is the language of us all" bit, so if anyone that knows better would like to email me that'd be cool: jazzman_law@hotmail.com (I don't consider to be a jazzman of any sort, I made that address when I was 12) Chords: C: 8 10 10 9 8 8 Bb: 6 8 8 7 6 6 A7: 5 7 5 6 5 5 Gm: 3 5 5 3 3 3 F: 1 3 3 2 1 1 Dm: x 5 7 7 6 5 F7: 1 3 1 2 1 1 Dm*: x x 0 2 3 1 C*: x 3 2 0 1 0 (Trumpet Intro) C Bb A7
A7When a room becomes an altar And what beast that must exist It flies with Bbmusic from our lips And steals a Gmkiss and blows it BbOut into the A7mist (A7) Where castles stand on cliffs
And cobbled streets they wind and drift
And moods are Bbmade and set but shift This place where Gmskies are low BbAnd birds are A7big
(A7) We went to sleep in day And woke again the same day
We have Bblearned to cheat the time And find the Gmhours That the Bbclocks cannot A7define (A7) As I looked up from that stage I felt the thing that had been Bbmade
And how it raged
And how it Gmraged
Chorus
How to exBbplain? Something makes me howl And Cshiver to the core Ah outFside if it was raining Then inBbside there'd be a Cstorm We've got a Dmpair of hands for climbing And a Bbpair of knees to Cspring And a Fpair of balls for strength And a Bbpair of lungs to Csing And these F7simple chords That say: Bbmusic is the Dmlanguage of us Call
Trumpet Break Dm* C* Gm x3 Dm C C Bb A7 (A7) To write these songs is to be written Ah the chorus always knows
What is in Bbstore And what is more the thing that Gmsings us Is the Bbthing that makes us A7roar (A7) I felt that beast 'kisso my neck
We clapped our hands
And heard them Bbspread There was a trumpet and a Gmcall A pack of BbSpaniards screamed for A7more
Music is the language of us all Music is the language of us all
Music is the language of us A7all Music is the language of us all
Trumpet Break II Dm* C* Gm x(many) Dm* C* Chorus (C) Bb I find it hard to speak emotional
Cos Cthese things are the things that Can't be said F
And when it's struck it strikes
The Bbmemory from our Cheads DmOnce I wrote to play's To be Bbimmortal for a Cnight And desFpite the unknown hours Something Bbhappens When the Clight turns out the F7lights
Then we fade and yawn
To Bbmusic that's the Dmlanguage of us Call