Gilbert O'Sullivan - Alone again naturally

^FIn a little while from ^F6now, if I'm ^Amnot feeling any less sour, I pr^Cmomise myself to treat myself and ^Dvisit a nearby ^D7tower, and c^Gmlimbing to the top to ^Bbmthrow myself off, in an ef^Ffort to make it ^Faugclear to who - ever wh^F6at it's like when you're ^Eshattered left s^Amtanding in the lurch at a ^Cmchurch with people ^D7saying, "My Go^Gmd, that's tough, she stood him up, no p^Bbmoint in us remaining. We m^Fay as well go ^F6home." As ^AmI did on my o^Dwn, a^Gmlone again, ^C#dim natura^Flly.

To t^Fhink that only yester^F6day I was ^Amcheerful bright and gay, looking ^Cmforward - who wouldn't do ? - The ^Drole I was about to ^D7play. And as ^Gmif to knock me down r^Bbmeality came around, and wi^Fthout so much as a ^Faugmere touch threw me ^F6into little ^Epieces, ^Amleaving me to doubt, all ab^Cmout God in his ^D7mercy, who ^Gmif he really does exist, ^Bbmwhy did he desert me ^Fin my hour of ^F6need I ^Amtruly am in^D7deed al^Gmone again, ^C#dim natural^Fly.

I^Abt seems to me that there are more hearts ^Ebbroken in the world than can be ^Bbmmended, ^C left u^Abnattended. ^Fm What do we ^Cdo? What do we ^Gmdo? ^C

L^Fooking back over the ^F6years and ^Amwhatever else appears, I ^Cmremember I cried when my father died, never ^Dwishing to hide my ^D7tears. And at s^Gmixty-five years old, my ^Bbmmother, God rest her soul, couldn't ^Funderstand why the ^Faugonly man she had ^F6ever loved had been ^Etaken. L^Ameaving her to start with a ^Cmheart so badly ^D7broken, d^Gmespite encouragement from me, no ^Bbmwords were ever spoken. Wh^Fen she passed ^F6away I ^Amcried and cried all ^D7day, al^Gmone again ^C#dim natura^Flly, ^D7 a^Gmlone again ^C#dim natura^Flly.