Chelsea Wolfe - The culling

^EbDead eyes ^DmI only call you when you're ^Cmin my dreams ^EbDied too young ^DmThe culling then, it was obs^Cmcene ^EbI am de^Dmpleted by l^Cmove ^EbI am dep^Gmleted by lo^Cmve

^EbI’ll never tell the s^Dmecrets of my fam^Cmily ^EbBled out ^DmA cult of anon^Cmymity

^EbThe kettle is wh^Dmeeling, my l^Cmove ^EbRiding on the b^Dmack of a hell they c^Cmaused

^EbOne ear to the ground ^DmOne eye on the roo^Cmm ^EbMy tongue on your pulse ^DmMy finger in your w^Cmound

^CmSweet D^Dbead Eyes, ^Ebi long to ^Bbmhear you agai^Cmn ^CmSweet D^Dbead Eyes, ^EbI long to s^Bbmee your fa^Cmce ^CmSweet D^Dbead Eyes, ^EbI long for that il^Bbmlustrious his^Cms ^CmSweet D^Dbead Eyes, ^EbI know you fe^Bbel it

^EbNo turning back ^Dm“Only god knows what we’re h^Cmeaded for” ^EbThe flowers bloom ^DmThe sun r^Cmises

^EbFlux ^DmHiss ^DmWelt ^CmGroan