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SAINT VALENTINE - Gregory Alan Isakov capo on third fret C F C G (x2)
FWell Grace she is gone Cshe's a half written Gpoem C FShe went out for cigCarettes and never camGe home Am G FAnd I swallowed the sun andC screamed and waileGd Am FStraight down to the dCirt so I could find her traGil C FSpread out cross theE great divine C
Well I just came to talk Saint Valentine I never pictured you living here With the rats and the vines Ain't that my own heart Hanging out on the line? Oh you're all fucked up Saint Valentine Now I circle the bars on the promenade While the girls in the glass they're just throwing me shades And I'm saving my coins up for jingle and jane While she's out plucking strings in the pouring pouring She's out plucking strings in the pouring rain See I'm all crooked feet Saint Valentine I've circled this map till they've gone on fire Now Grace she has left you just skin and bones Well you hang up your hat But you can't call it home Well you've tried and you've tried But you can't call it home You're the loneliest one Saint Valentine You're the loneliest one Saint Valentine Well you're all fucked up Saint Valentine