Greg Smith - This empty house

^EmI hear the wind at night, as it ^Cmoans thru window panes ^{Em Em}When’d it get so drafty? It’s^C comin’ on to rain ^Em It crep^Dt up on me, wholly unanno^Cunced ^Em Just one o^Df many remnants, in th^Cis empty house ^Em

^Em(The) sun rises and it sets, mud^Cdled thru the blinds ^{Em Em}The sound of urgent footsteps, echoes^C in my mind ^Em I think^D I lost my keys insid^Ce the couch ^Em Just on^De of many mysteries, in t^Chis empty house ^Em

^EmThe ticking clock don’t bother me, it’s ^Clong since lost its win^Emd ^EmBut since you passed to higher ground, it weighs^C upon my mind ^Em My metho^Dds and my madness are unsound^{C Em} Perhaps^D I’ll find another wa^Cy around ^Em Maybe t^Dhen, I’ll keep from g^Coing down In^C this empty ho^Emuse.