None of them
D E
To the doting boys by, your side
A D
Riding roughshod on your starless nights
D E
To she who played concertos, foul and black,
A D
Upon my heart strings and never looked back
E F# Bm D G
What became of those, wild charms?
D
The deep fry of the tide? The tug of the stars?
D D7 F# Bm D D7 G
How it stares me, how it stares me now
G D
To think my fire burnt them out.
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