Cynthia Summers - My house is small

I don’t know much of ^Fany^Cthing Don’t remember ^Gwhat I ^Cknow Don’t know how to ^Fsay ^Cthings Don’t know how to ^Glet my^Cself go Rain in the ^Amroad ^G And the cars splashing ^Amthrough ^G The storm is un^Amfolding ^G And I don’t know what to ^Amdo ^G

But the world’s a big ^Amplace ^G And my house is ^Amsmall ^G Hard to make ^Amsense of it any^Gway

^CTry to be ^Fhon^Cest Try to be ^Gtrue ^C Don’t try to be ^Fspe^Ccial Just sort of ^Gnew ^C Try not to ^Amsound ^Glike Another man’s ^Amsong ^G This isn’t ^Ameas^Gy This takes so ^Amlong ^G

But the world’s a big ^Amplace ^G And my house is ^Amsmall ^G Hard to make ^Amsense of it any^Gway

^CThis leads me to ^Fno^Ctice Dust on the ^Gdesk ^C The windows are ^Fgri^Cmy The kitchen’s a ^Gmess ^C There are papers all ^Amove^Gr Nothing fits ^Amtight ^G I don’t know how to ^Amdo ^Gthis I don’t know how to ^Amwrite ^G

But the world’s a big ^Amplace ^G And my house is ^Amsmall ^G Hard to keep it ^Amclean any^Gway

My ^Fhouse, my ^Chouse, my ^Ghouse Some ^Fwalls, a ^Croof, some ^Gdoors Some ^Flove, some ^Clight, some ^Gwars I will ^Fgive you my ^Chouse for a ^Gsong I will give ^F)you this ^Csong for my ^Ghouse

^CThere’s thunder a^Fbove ^Cus And lighting sparks ^Gfly ^C The storm is so ^Fend^Cless Maybe god will come ^Gby ^C Meanwhile I’m ^Amsing^Ging And the air fills with ^Amrain ^G I’m saying ^Amsome^Gthing Neither perfect nor ^Amplain ^G

But the world’s a big ^Amplace ^G And my house is ^Amsmall ^G Hard to make ^Amsense of it any^Gway