Frank Turner - Plain sailing weather

Just give me ^Bmone fine day of ^Gplain sailing weather And ^DI can fuck up anything, anything. It was a ^Bmwonderful life when ^Gwe were together, And ^Dnow I've fucked up every little goddamn ^Athing.

Amelie ^Bmlied to me, ^G this was supposed to be ^Deasy. ^A I found the ^Bmone damn person to ^Ghelp me fall asleep in the ^Dnight. ^A But sleeping gets ^Bmtiring, ^G and dark reminds me of ^Ddying, ^A And as ^Bmlong as this feeble ^Gheart is still beating, You will ^Dfind me rushing through every room, switching on all the ^Alights.

The ^F#problem with falling in^Bm love in latenight bars Is that there's a^Glways more nights, there's always more bars. The ^F#problem with showing your ^Bmlover your scars Is that ^Geverybody's lover is covered in scars.

Just give me ^Bmone fine day of ^Gplain sailing weather And ^DI can fuck up anything, anything. It was a ^Bmwonderful life when ^Gwe were together, And ^Dnow I've fucked up every

Things got ^Bmfractious,^G and I felt ^Dfaithless, ^A At that ^Bmmoment just before the ^Gdawn when everything falls ^Dapart. ^A But baby I didn't ^Bmmean it,^G for things to get ^Ddesperate. ^A I let^Bm slip my guard, let ^Ggo of the rudder, Now we're ^Ddrifting in the current awa^Ay from one another.

Just give me ^Bmone fine day of ^Gplain sailing weather And ^DI can fuck up anything, anything. It was a ^Bmwonderful life when ^Gwe were together, And ^Dnow I've fucked up every thing. Give me ^Bmone fine day of ^Gplain sailing weather And ^DI can fuck up anything, anything. It was a ^Bmwonderful life when ^Gwe were together, And ^Dnow I've fucked up every little goddamn ^Athing.

every little goddamn ^Gthing every little goddamn ^Athing G Bm (let ring) every little goddamn thing I've been skirting round the ^Drim of doing something ^GBrave, and not just ^F#mstanding, but jumping in, ^Bm Of making circles into ^Dsquares, of laying down The ^Gbare facts like a ^F#mburden I can't bear. ^Bm And I can almost find the ^Dwords, but I can see the way you'd ^GFold your hands, speak ^F#mmy name like a ^Gcurse upon your ^F#mpretty lips, the ^Gpressured white be^F#mhind your fingertips.

And when you ^Bmsee me for all that I ^Aam I couldn't make mist^Gmakes to make a difference any ^Dmore. I'd throw myself ^Bmdown on my knees, at your ^Ahands, And beg you for for^Gmgiveness for my fuckups and my ^Dfaults. And maybe you'd ^Bmrelent, release my hope for our ^Aforever, Lift up your precious ^Gmhands, and then bring yours and mine ^Dtogether, ^Bm So just give me ^Aone fine day of ^Gmplain sailing weather. ^{D Bm} Just give me ^Aone fine day of ^Gmplain sailing weather.