Quiet House - Norma jeanne

^BmYou were the one behind the c^Gamera All those ^Aphotographs I foun^Bmd ^GThe stairs up to the attic They would ^Embend and bow with ^Aevery creaking sou^Bmnd The books unb^Aound The dusty gr^Gound ^BmThe stories that they told me They were ^Gfragments, they were ^Aparchment half unfurl^Bmed They were ^Gepitaphs in whispered tones Kept ^Emsafe from all the s^Awine and all the pea^Bmrls The black-haired gi^Arl The twists and cur^Gls

I have ^Emnever seen your grave And I will ^Gnever know the ^A7things that you belie^Bmved Norma Jean^Ane Norma Jean^Gne

^BmOh, was he ^Agentle? Was he ^Gpatient? Was he me^Bmek? Did the ^Ganimal inside him Have to ^Emteach you how to ^Aturn the other che^Bmek? Norma J^Aeanne Are you any part of ^Gme? And ^Bmoh, did it ^Ahaunt you still When ^Gyou would go to ^Bmsleep? Did you ^Glearn to love the darkness Of the ^Emone who laid these ^Achildren at your ^Bmfeet? Norma Jean^Ane Norma Jean^Gne

Were you ^Embroken? Were you bitter? Are you p^Gresent in the s^A7ecrets that I^Bm keep? Norma Jean^Ane Norma Jean^Gne You are the ^Emface of all my questions And the ^Gbody of the ^A7man that I will^Bm be Norma Jea^Anne Do you see yourself in ^Gme?