{title:You Ain't Goin' Nowhere}
{st:Bob Dylan}
[D]Clouds so swift, [Em]rain won't lift,
[G]Gates won't close, the [D]railing's froze.
Get your mind off [Em]winter time,
[G]You ain't goin' no[D]where.

{c:Chorus:}
     [D]Oooo, Eeeee, [Em]Ride me high,
     [G]One of these days my [D]man's gonna come.
     Oh Lord, [Em]we gonna fly,
     [G]Down in the easy [D]chair.

I don't care how many letters they sent,
Morning came and morning went.
Pick up your money and pack your tent,
But we still ain't goin' nowhere.

     {c:Chorus.}

Buy me a flute and a gun that shoots,
Tailgates and substitutes,
Strap yourself with the tree with roots,
You ain't goin' nowhere.

     {c:Chorus.}

Ghengis Khan he could not keep
All his kings supplied with reap.
Climb that hill no matter how steep,
We still ain't goin' nowhere.

     {c:Chorus.}
#
# Submitted to the ftp.nevada.edu:/pub/guitar archives
# by Steve Putz <putz@parc.xerox.com> 
# 7 September 1992