Frank Turner - The graveyard of the outcast dead

They bur^Aied my b^Eody on ^F#mChristmas In the g^Around by^D the sout^Eh river bank Work^Aed to my d^Eeath, for m^F#my very last breath I'd the Win^Dchester bi^Eshops to th^Aank Now the chu^Arch held the k^Eeys to the bro^F#mthel Lit the w^Dindow with a bur^Aning red li^Eght While I ^Ateased the fun^Eds from the po^F#mckets of johns The b^Dishop got ^Erich in the ni^Aght

But I di^Edn't fall apart Through ^Emy years in the dark For my l^Eover I guarded My pure,^E pure heart

And he me^Aets me in the gra^Dveyard The gra^Aveyard where they made my ^Ebed Plants a^A white flower under co^Dld stars On the gr^F#mave of the for^Egotten d^Aead ^{F#m E A}

Now the bi^Ashops snuck o^Eff to fresh past^F#mures While my g^Drave was grown ov^Aer with wee^Eds No buri^Aal plo^Ets, just some fo^F#mrget-me-nots For the wo^Dmen they b^Eranded unc^Alean The wast^Aeland was cl^Eaimed by the ci^F#mty They cov^Dered it with ten^Aement slu^Ems For wh^Aere we'd been le^Eft had never been ^F#mblessed And they du^Dg down and b^Euilt on our b^Aones

But ev^Eery December With ^Efrost on his fingers My lo^Ever returns For h^Ee still remembers

To me^Aet me in the grav^Deyard The gra^Aveyard where they made my ^Ebed Plants a w^Ahite flower under co^Dld stars On the gra^F#mve of the f^Eorgotten d^Aead

The s^Aun goes down and the l^Dmast folk leave It's Lo^Andon Town on Christmas ^DmEve My lov^Aer still wanders bere^Dmft and bereaved For he can^A't find the woman that he p^Dmromised he'd meet The su^An comes up on the col^Dmd, cold ground It's Chris^Atmas morning in Lond^Dmon Town He la^Ays on my grave and he crad^Dmles his head And as he he^Aars the church bells, he k^Dmnows that I'm dead

So Lon^Adon, don't mo^Eurn for your ^F#mlovers Raise a g^Dlass for us glo^Arious d^Eead For bene^Aath Southwark str^Eeets, we outlas^F#mted the priests And the ci^Dty's raised u^Ep on our b^F#m/Aeds Though we're g^Done, London, do ^Enot for^Aget

To mee^At us on Chris^Dtmas In the gra^Aveyard where they made our ^Ebed Plant a w^Ahite flower for the ou^Dtcasts On the gr^F#maves of the forg^Eotten dea^Dd Oh to m^Aeet us on Chris^Dtmas In the gr^Aaveyard where they made our b^Eed Plant a w^Ahite flower for th^De outcasts On the gra^F#mves of the f^Eorgotten de^Dad

In the Gra^F#mveyard of the Ou^Etcast De^Aad