| A7 | D7 | |
| All of my friends come to | see me last night, |
| A7 | D7 | |
| I was layin' in my bed and | dyin'. |
| Em | Bm | A | G | F#m | Em | D7 | |
| Annie Bonnea | u from | St. | An | gel say the | weather down here so | fine. |
| Just then the wind came squallin' through the door, |
| But who can the weather command? |
| Just want to have a little peace to die, |
| And a friend or two I love at hand. |
| Fever roll up to a hundred and five, |
| Roll on up, gonna roll back down. |
| One more day I find myself alive, |
| Tomorrow maybe go beneath the ground. |
| C | D/Em | |
| See here how everything | lead up to this day, |
| Dm | Am | Em | |
| And it's just like | any other day | that's ever been. |
| D | G | C | Em | Am | |
| Sun comin' | up and then the | sun | goin' | down. |
| F | C | D | |
| Shine through my window and my | friends they come | around, |
| Dm | F | A7 | |
| Come | around, come a | round. |
| The people might know, but the people don't care, |
| That a man can be as poor as me. |
| Take a look at poor Peter, he's lying in pain, |
| Now let's go run and see, run and see. |