How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly
Before they’re forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind
How many years can a mountain exist
Before it’s washed to the sea?
Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people exist
Before they’re allowed to be free?
Yes, ’n’ how many t
C D G I'm sorry for the things that I've done wrong C D G I'll try to make it up a little bit with this little song C G C G I guess it's like confession a way to clear the air C D But more than that I promise I'll do more to care C D G For myself
They paved paradise And put up a parking lot With a pink hotel, a boutique And a swinging hot spot Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot They took all the trees Put 'em in a tree museum And they charged the people A dollar and a half just to see 'em Don't it always seem to go That you don't know what you've got Till it's gone They paved paradise And put up a parking lot Hey farmer farmer Put
Well I think it's fine, building jumbo planes.
Or taking a ride on a cosmic train.
Switch on summer from a slot machine.
Yes, get what you want to if you want,
Cause you can get anything. I know we've come a long way,
We're changing day to day,
But tell me, where do the children play? Well you roll on roads over fresh green grass.
For your lorry loads pumping petrol gas.
And you make them long, and you make them tough.
But they just go on and on, and it seems that yo
So tell me family now what do you think?
Watch it all go down the great big sink.
Watch how the scum it rises to the top.
Don't you wonder when it's all gonna stop? Sometimes I wonder how we do sleep,
Serving the dodgy companies we keep.
All kicking and scrounging for the very first place,
Dictionary definition of a rat race. Pay off those losers we elect to lead,
Stealing from the mouths that we're meant to feed.
Enslaving the very clothes upon my back,