Chords for SHAWN PHILLIPS, LANDSCAPE w/ lyrics

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _ _
[F] _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _
[F] _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _
Level upon level, _ up, _ [G] wash and stone, _ _ [D] cab _ drivers [Dm] yelling [G] that each one, each one's alone.
[Dm] A forced up smile when capping your eyes, [Eb] insanity reigns on streets of no [Dm] size.
Like crumbling balls [F] of stones that have seen [Eb] the rigors of war and have never been [Gb] [Bb] cleaned.
A modern pay turnpike admits to it all, [A] while an old woman works in a garden with [Dm] trawl.
Trees are just blooming at a consistent time, _ [D]
purplish pink [G] flowers in a burnt-mantle pine.
A [Dm] miniature red castle in black craggy past, [D]
gypso-puzzled [G] houses the resultants of mass.
[Bb] The top of the mountain cut off by the mist, [A] and the whites are in camp all in space.
As it [D] is, lemon trees, oranges and cactus alike, the growth of the [G] vineyard with grapes not too ripe.
A [D] darkest forest of as big as a house, while dawdling along like [Gm] a little green [Bb] mouse.
A long-sleeping view expounds my belief, [Dm] and clear restless water with an absence of reef.
[D] Evolutions in cycle, from place to place, while foliage drips, [Gm] and green film elates.
[Dm] Now rough and then coarse, soon velvet to touch, a magnum [G] on mosaic on a church that is such.
[Bb] And columns of clouds go boiling across, [A] the mountains that stop them and suffer no [D] loss.
And yet, [Dm] dreaming cliffs that call down to sea, [D] while people are [G] sleeping, they hang these [Dm] beliefs.
But the trucks rolling by, with their white-winged hammers, _ talk quietly [G] murmuring over the mountain's first tarn.
[Bb] Arches and steps are seen everywhere, [A] and many thought meeting one day or the [Dm] other.
The distance of time is virtually long, [G] day goes and night comes, I breathe up my lung.
[Dm] But the state of a city is a paper cloud, and [G] it is strange even past, who captures your eye.
[E] And pinpoints of brilliance, some moving, some still, [A] are caught in the glass of my window sill.
[D] The pinpoints I mentioned, took six stars, but then [G] think again, how funny they [D] are.
Stars made by man who himself, with a star, only _ [Gm] realized the power that [E] are.
And all he's got to do is lay down and play dead.
[A] And now the curve of city slumes overhead.
[Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _
_ _ [D] _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [E] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [A] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [E] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [A] And _ _ _ _ _
_ [D] _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _
_ [G] _ _ _ now the curve of city slumes _
_ [Dm] _ _ overhead. _ _ _
_ _ [G] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [E] _ _ _ _ _ [Gm] _ _
_ [A] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ [Dm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[B] _ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _ _
[Gm] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _