Тональность: F# major
Verse 1
D
C#
Bm
G
Bm
Just like
when we were seventeen
Abm
We said we'd move to Malta,
G
Bm
claim Nationality,
And now that we are twenty-three
Abm
Days Days tethered to the
running track,
G
Evenings chained to the dish rack
Verse 2
Bm
I'm called up to the Maltese national team,
Abdim
My vision is impeccable,
G
my first touch is obscene.
Bm
A world cup qualifier finds me fifty,
forty, thirty yards
Abdim
From goal, a late sub on in
G
D
Bm
an off the striker role
Verse 3
Bm
Was it wind? Did it take a
bad deflection?
Abm
G
A decade spent nursing a fear that
you might never make it?
Bm
The crowd draws breathe at once it swerves
C#
Bm
to the top corner
D
Abdim
Abm
The Sunday tabloid press declares me the new king of Malta.
G
Bm
E
Bbm
Interlude 1
Em
G
Bm
E
Bb5
Bbm
Bm
E
G
Verse 4
D
With my name on shirts,
G
Bm
your face on the cash
D
Bm
That every week just piles in
G
side our bank account,
D
G
We'd rule the roost and we
could start a family
Bm
D
G
I think we'd make about
D
a hundred million bucks
Bm
Verse 5
I head down to the mint and tell them:
Abm
G
Pound every coin deep into the ground
Bm
Burn every note in circulation
Abm
There's a new face on the
Bm
D
currency of our nation.
Bm
I hand them a photograph of you,
Abm
The most beautiful thing
Abdim
G
they'd ever seen.
Bm
The press starts a rolling,
C#
your image on Euros,
D
Abm
Bm
E
The workforce retires to the bathroom.
Bb5
Bbm
Bb5
Interlude 2
E
G
Bm
E
Bb5
Bbm
E
G
C#
Verse 6
D
With my name on shirts,
G
D
your face on the cash
Bm
That every week just piles
inside our bank account,
D
G
We'd rule the roost and we
D
could start a family
Bm
D
Bm
D
G
I think we'd make about a hun
D
Bm
D
G
D
dred million bucks
Bm
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