El original está en G#.
|G| I'm a junkyard full of |A7| false starts
|C| And I don't need your per-|G| mission
To |A7| bury my |C| love under this |G| bare light |A7| bulb
|C| The |Em| moon is a |A7| sickle |C| cell
|Em| It'll |A7| kill you in |B7| time
Your |C| cold white |Em| brother |A7| riding in your |C| blood
|B7| Like spun glass in sore eyes
|E| While the |G| moon does |Bm7| its di-|C#m| vision, you're buried be-|C| low
And you're coming up |G| ro-|A7| ses |C| every-|G| where you
|A7| go, red |C| roses |D| fol-
Instr: |G - A7 - C - G - A7 - C - G - A7|
..........low
|C| The |Em| things that you |A7| tell your-|C| self
|Em| They'll |A7| kill you in |B7| time
Your |C| cold white |Em| brother a-|A7| live in your |C| blood
|B7| Spinning in the night sky
|E| While the |G| moon does |Bm7| its di-|C#m| vision, you're buried be-|C| low
And you're coming up |G| ro-|A7| ses |C| every-|G| where you
|A7| go, red |C| ro-|B7| ses
|E| So you |G| got in a |Bm7| kind of |C#m| trouble that nobody |C| knows
It's coming up |G| ro-|A7| ses |C| every-|G| where you
|A7| go, red |C| roses |D| fol-|G| low
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