And I’m found too
G
fast, called too fond of flames,
and then I’m phoning my
C
friends, and then I’m shouldering the blame,
while you’re picking
Em
pebbles out of the
D
drain, miles
C
ago.
You’re out singing
G
songs, and I’m down shouting names
at the flickerless
C
screen, going fucking insane.
Am I losing my
Em
cool, overstating my
D
case?
Well, baby, what
C
can I say? You know I
D
never claimed
that I was a
G
stone. And you love a
C
stone.
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