None of them
Intro: A , E , F#m x2
A E F#m
Well I been downhearted baby,
ever since the day we met.
So I hid behind all those old songs,
baby how blue can you get...
A E D
And the smoke filled my lungs like I was dying,
And the summer sunset kissed my fingertips.
A E D
And the smoke filled my lungs like I was dying,
And the summer sunset kissed my fingertips.
F#m D A E
So someone grab my wrists and pull me out of this,
F#m D A E
Take my money, take my wallet, take my shoes.
F#m D A E
Get a good, good hold of me and pull on the count of three,
F#m D
Just do whatever you've gotta do...
Do what you gotta do.
A , E , F#m x2
A E F#m
And it's cold outside on a Monday.
Maybe that's the weather's sympathy.
We hate the traffic and the tax forms, and our day jobs...
What ungrateful men are we.
A E D
What, then, do I do with all these feelings,
All the anger, all the there, but Grace, go I.
A E D
What, then, do I do with all these feelings,
All the anger, all the there, but Grace, go I.
F#m D A E
So someone grab my wrists and pull me out of this,
F#m D A E
Take my money, take my wallet, take my shoes.
F#m D A E
Get a good, good hold of me and pull on the count of three,
F#m D
Just do whatever you've gotta do...
Do what you gotta do.
F#m D A E
So someone grab my wrists and pull me out of this,
F#m D A E
Take my money, take my wallet, take my shoes.
F#m D A E
Get a good, good hold of me and pull on the count of three,
F#m D
Just do whatever you've gotta do...
Do what you gotta do.
A , E , F#m , D
A , E , F#m
A , E , F#m , D
A , E , F#m , A , E , A
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