Paul Simon

Cl ^D oudy,
The sky is grey and white and clou ^G dy.
Sometimes I think it's hanging d ^D own ^F#7 on m ^Ddim e.
I ^A t's hitch-hike a hundred m ^F#7 iles.
I'm a ^A rag-a-muffin c ^Bm hild.
P ^E ointed finger, painted smile.
I le ^A ft my shadow waiting down the ^A7 road for me a while.

Cl ^D oudy,
My thoughts are scattered and they're clou ^G dy.
They have no borders, ^D no b ^F#7 oundar ^Ddim ies.
T ^A hey echo and they s ^F#7 well,
From Tol ^A stoy to Tinker ^Bm bell,
D ^E own from Berkeley to Carmel.
Got ^A some pictures in my pocket and a ^A7 lot of time to kill.

Hey, Su ^D nshine--
I haven't seen you in a l ^G ong time.
Why don't you show your face and be ^D nd ^F#7 my m ^Ddim ind?
Th ^A ese clouds stick to the s ^F#7 ky,
Like a fl ^A oating question, ^Bm why?
A ^E nd they linger there to die.
^A They don't know where they're going, and my ^A7 friend, neither do I.

Clo ^D udy, Cl ^G oudy, Clo ^D udy, ^G Cloudy.



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