Poets of the Fall - Temple of thought

^AmChills Chills come racing down my sp^Gine Like a storm on my skin With sh^Amaking hands I'll guide your sweet soul into m^Gine Until I feel you within And I k^Fnow I know that it's all about ^Amunderst^Ganding And I h^Fid it ins^Gide Your beautiful s^Amoul as it's cry^Ging for l^Fove To c^Gonquer the d^Amay slowly d^Gawnin' I w^Fant you to k^Gnow You're the h^Ameart of my t^Gemple of th^Fought

^Am So when you're r^Gestless I will c^Falm the o^Gcean for you ^Am In your s^Gorrow I will dr^Fy your t^Gears ^Am When you ne^Ged me I will ^Fbe there, l^Gow beside you Am G F (G) I'll take away all your fears ^AmI'll take aw^Gay all of ^Fyour f^Gears So y^Amou can let g^Go all your f^Fears

^GDreams have nothing on my re^Fality I ^GI'm the scent of your s^Fkin ^GI know where I am end^Flessly into the sun ^GFeel the life, dream ^Fwithin