| Intro: G F C (4X) |
| G | F | C | |
| In your | blue room sit with a | candle | lit |
| G | F | Am | |
| On a | charcoal bed of | dreams you carry | on |
| G | F | C | |
| Though the | streets are hot you can | still a | lot |
| G | F | Am | /E | /D | C | |
| But you can | walk out and | forget there isn't | time | to take | a | loan |
| F | E7 | A7 | |
| But you're | now into something that | you were immune to be | fore |
| F | E7 | A7 | F | |
| And there | wasn't a sign you just | fell into line at the | door |
| G | F | C | |
| And the | question sands in the | palms of | hands |
| G | F | Am | /E | /D | C | |
| Of the | wretches picking | pieces of their | minds | up off | the | floor |
| On the mantel place there is still a trace |
| Of the plastic face you hung your moments on |
| And the sudden scare of a landing there on the sea |
| That you don't care to even see when you're alone |
| But the day is too short and you can't find support in the sun |
| You had thought you'd decide to just stick out the ride as it comes |
| But the emptiness of a thing that's less than what it was thought to be |
| Has left you wondering just how much more |
| by: José Duarte |
| jtduarte1@gmail.com |