Tom: Eb major
Verse 1
G
D
G
D
G
Every
D
G
day it's Friday night
D
G
I hold my body like a butcher knife
D
G
Smiling for the camera eyes closed
D
G
Doing anything you ask I suppose
D
You tell me you would die
D
G
I know there's no excuse for oxygen
D
So I will make your bed my graveyard
G
D
Let the world run through
A
F#m
A
my soft parts
Verse 2
A
D
And I live at this faultline
Between the edge of solitude
A
D
A
D
I'm shaking in a sentimental trope
F#m
And all the stars apologize for night
A
I don't blame them I've wanted
D
to sometimes
I don't know what to tell you
A
D
My body's just a landscape for your sin
F#m
And all the days regret the city lights
A
I know it's just the fault
Verse 3
G
D
G
Every week keeps slipping by
D
G
In this imitation paradise
G
me everywhere
D
Can't you see I'm sinking
D
Wish you could reimburse my oxygen
G
D
I gave you everything
D
A
D
A
Left you with nothing to be looking for
Verse 4
A
D
Will I die at this faultline?
F#m
Between the edge of entropy and woe
A
D
I wanted everything so much it grows
F#m
Until I can't manage this appetite
A
D
I loved you so traumatically that I
Can barely lift the world you
F#m
Holding onto me for our dear life
A
All these bodies always touching
Outro 1
mine
D
F#m
A
D
F#m
A
D
O que você achou da música?
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesG D A F#m
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