'Masters of war' by Bob Dylan - Guitar Tutorial

            ~From: jgladman@uoguelph.ca (Julie R Gladman)
 Corrected lyrics:  Benjamin L. Weiss 
 
 This is my approximation of how this song is played:
 
 Masters of War -- Bob Dylan
 
 Am    Am7 Am
 
 Am               Am Am7 Am
 Come you masters of war
 Am                      Am Am7 Am
 You that build the big guns
 Am                      Am Am7 Am
 You that build the death planes
 Am                        Am Am7 Am
 You that build all the bombs
 Am                     Am Am7 Am
 You that hide behind walls
 Am                      Am Am7 Am
 You that hide behind desks
 Am     C           G          F                Am     Am7 Am
 I just want you to know I can see through your masks
 
 And the song just continues in that vein for the rest of the
 Verses:
 
 You that never have done nothin' but build to destroy
 You play with my world like it's your little toy
 You put a gun in my hand then you hide from my eyes
 Then you turn and run farther when the fast bullets fly
 
 Like Judas of old you lie and deceive
 A world war can't be won, and you want me to believe
 But I see through your eyes and I see through your brain
 Like I see through the water that runs down my drain
 
 You that fasten all the triggers for the others to fire
 Then you sit back and watch while the death count gets
 Higher
 You hide in your mansions while the young people's blood
 Flows out of their bodies and gets buried in the mud
 
 You've thrown the worst fear that can ever be hurled
 Fear to bring children into the world
 For threatening my baby, unborn and unnamed
 You ain't worth the blood that runs in your veins
 
 How much do I know to talk out of turn
 You might say that I'm young, you might say I'm unlearned
 But there's one thing I know, though I'm younger than you
 Even Jesus would never forgive what you do
 
 Let me ask you one question:  is your money that good?
 Will it buy you forgiveness?  Do you think that it could?
 I think you will find when your death takes its toll
 All the money you made won't ever buy back your soul
 
 And I hope that you die and your death will come soon
 I'll follow your casket through the pale afternoon
 And I'll watch while you're lowered into your death bed
 Then I'll stand over your grave till I'm sure that you're
 Dead
 
 *Corrections to lyrics or chords would be most welcome.*
 
 --
 *Do you ever get the feeling that the story's too damn real
 And*
 *in the present tense?   Or that everybody's on the stage
 And it*
 *seems like you're  the only  person sitting  in the
 Audience?*
 *                           -Ian Anderson
 *
 *   Something to think about,
 *
 *        Julie Gladman jgladman@uoguelph.ca
 *