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Passing Afternoon Iron and Wine
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There are ti[G]mes that walk from y[D]ou like some pa[Em]ssing afte[C]rnoon
[G]Summer warmed the o[D]pen window [Em]of her hone[D]ymoon
And she ch[G]ose a yard to b[D]urn, but the gr[Em]ound remembers h[C]er
[G]Wooden spoons, her chi[D]ldren stir her bouga[Em]invillea bl[D]ooms
There are th[G]ings that drift a[D]way like our en[Em]dless, numbered da[C]ys
[G]Autumn blew the qu[D]ilt right off the pe[Em]rfect bed she m[D]ade
And she's ch[G]osen to bel[D]ieve in the h[Em]ymns her mother si[C]ngs
[G]Sunday pulls its chi[D]ldren from their p[Em]iles of fallen le[D]aves
There are sai[G]ling ships that p[D]ass all our bo[Em]dies in the gr[C]ass
[G]Springtime calls her chi[D]ldren 'till she l[Em]ets them go at l[D]ast
And she's ch[G]osen where to [D]be, though she's l[Em]ost her wedding r[C]ing
[G]Somewhere near her misp[D]laced jar of bouga[Em]invillea se[D]eds
There are thi[G]ngs we can't re[D]call, blind as n[Em]ight that finds us a[C]ll
[G]Winter tucks her chi[D]ldren in, her fr[Em]agile china do[D]lls
But my ha[G]nds remember h[D]ers, rolling 'r[Em]ound the shaded fe[C]rns
[G]Naked arms, her sec[D]rets still like s[Em]ongs I'd never lea[D]rned
There are na[G]mes across the s[D]ea, only n[Em]ow I do bel[C]ieve
[G]Sometimes, with the win[D]dows closed, she'll [Em]sit and think of [D]me
But she'll me[G]nd his tattered clo[D]thes and they'll k[Em]iss as if they k[C]now
[G]A baby sleeps in a[D]ll our bones, so sc[Em]ared to be al[D]one
Enjoy =)
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