Take care of me. *between verses play Am, slide up two frets, and back down* There's hotels in the sea, trash in the sky. The net-dustry's growing. Stick to love songs, kid, that's all you're knowing. They push you away, or tie you up. It don't really matter. But if your head is up, you won't get much sadder. But who am I to preach a word or two when I can't lift my own head about you? If my mental state kept you from coming around, I hope the world would shoot me down for losing you. (chordiearchive.chordie.com)
