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| Carla Bruni- At Last The Secret Is Out |
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"The tongue has its desire..."
Tuning: Standard
Capo on 1st fret
Chords:
F: 133211
G: 320003
A7: x02020
Bm: x24430
C: x32010
Dsus2: xx0230
Intro
1.
e|-----3-3----3-3----3-3----3-3--|
B|-----3-3----3-3----3-3----3-3--|
G|-------------------------------|
D|--3~---------------------------|
A|---------3~--------------------|
E|----------------3~-----3~------|
F C G
Verse
F C
At last the secret is out,
G F C G
as it always must come in the end,
F C G
the delicious story is ripe to tell
F C G
to the intimate friend;
Chorus
Bm C
over the tea-cups and into the square
Dsus2 G
the tongue has its desire;
Bm C
still waters run deep, my dear,
Dsus2 G
there's never smoke without fire.
Bm C
Behind the corpse in the reservoir,
Dsus2 G
behind the ghost on the links,
Bm C
behind the lady who dances
Dsus2 F C G
and the man who madly drinks,
Verse
[ Tab from: https://www.guitartabs.cc/tabs/c/carla_bruni/at_last_the_secret_it_out_crd.html ]
F C
under the look of fatigue
D F C G
the attack of migraine and the sigh
F C
there is always another story,
G F C G
there is more than meets the eye.
Chorus
Bm C
For the clear voice suddenly singing,
Dsus2 G
high up in the convent wall,
Bm C
the scent of the elder bushes,
Dsus2 G
the sporting prints in the hall,
Bm C
the croquet matches in summer,
Dsus2 G Bm
the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
C A7
the kiss, the kiss
Bm C
there is always a wicked secret,
Dsus2 G
a private reason for this
Bm - C - D - G
Outro
F - C - G - G
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Lyrics:
At last the secret is out,
as it always must come in the end,
the delicious story is ripe to tell
to tell to the intimate friend;
over the tea-cups and into the square
the tongues has its desire;
still waters run deep, my dear,
there's never smoke without fire.
Behind the corpse in the reservoir,
behind the ghost on the links,
behind the lady who dances
and the man who madly drinks,
under the look of fatigue
the attack of migraine and the sigh
there is always another story,
there is more than meets the eye.
For the clear voice suddenly singing,
high up in the convent wall,
the scent of the elder bushes,
the sporting prints in the hall,
the croquet matches in summer,
the handshake, the cough, the kiss,
there is always a wicked secret,
a private reason for this
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| Raileff |
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