[Riff]
   (G)         (Am)         (Em)         (C)
E|--3--3--3--3--0--0--0--0---0--0--0--0---0--0---0--0--|
B|--3--3--3-----1--1--1--0---0--0--0--0---1--1---1--1--|
G|--0--0--0-----2--2--2--2---0--0--0--0---0--0---0--0--|
D|--0--0--0-----2--2--2--2---2--2--2--2---2--0h2-2--0--|
A|--2--2--2-----0--0--0--0---2--2--2--2---3--3---3--3--|
E|--3--3--3-----0--0--0--0---0--0--0--0----------------|


[Intro]
G Am Em C  (x2)


[Verse 1]
                     G           Am     Em      C
Well it would take a mountain of men to move me
                    G                 Am           Em    C
And that would be a long way from the way that you spoke in your head so clearly
G                      Am  Em      C
without break or breath or words redefining
      G           Am            Em           C                     G                  Am
I was stuck on my pride and the skin and the sinking it in and you told me "Wipe your brow,
         Em           C                 G     Am    Em    C
clean me off, give me time to figure it out."


[Instrumental]
G Am Em C G


[Chorus]
     Am                 Em    C             G
Some songs we could sing  and never mean it
     Am                Em        C                     G
Some songs leave a ring  and you hate the few who were bold
     Am                Em    C                G        Am  Em  C
Some burn up the sleeve  and drive too far to remember


[Instrumental]
G Am Em C


[Verse 2]
              G           Am          Em            C
well I wasn't lost, I was here. I was three fingers in
          G                Am             Em          C
I was the junkyard and the bumper for the few feeling left
          G                 Am         Em            C                            G  Am  Em  C
I was the cold nail and the ice on the sheets of the trenched and the soaking wet

                 G           Am         Em                         C
Well it'd be the bit and the reins that broke all the teeth in the mouth
                G           Am               Em                C       G      Am  Em  C  G
and it'd be the whip on the foreskin for the few that had some left to spare


[Chorus]
     Am                 Em    C             G
Some songs we could sing  and never mean it
     Am                Em        C                    G
Some songs leave a ring  and you hate the few who are bold
     Am                Em    C                G        Am  Em  C
Some burn up the sleeve  and drive too far to remember


[Instrumental]
G Am Em C
G Am Em C


[Outro]
G  Am  Em  C
AAAAAAAAAAAH
G  Am  Em  C
AAAAAAAAAAAH
G  Am  Em  C
AAAAAAAAAAAH
G  Am  Em  C
AAAAAAAAAAAH