Runrig - Edge of the world

All the ^Fhomes on the globe are like ^Gtelevision in your eyes^F A cross ^Fguarding your ^Dmheart the ^Fliving years a ^Dmsacrif^Dmice ^G A ^Dmshiver at the door in the ^Fnight, clouds ^Fcross a black moon^Glight ^FRushing on down to the sound of a turning ^Gworld

There's a ^Fsouth by sou'westerly ^Gforce eight coming in stron^Fg Across the ^Fcontinental ^Dmshelf from the ^Fcold grey ^DmMalin bey^Dmond ^G The ^Dmneed to keep cont^Frol The n^Feed to stand al^Gone at the edge of the ^Dmworld

^GAt the edge of the ^Dmworld ^GAt the edge of the (^Fha-a-a-a r^Fa-a-a-^Ga) (^Fha-a-a-a ^Fra-a-a-a-^Dma-) ^G

The ^Fadrenalin infrastructure ^Gbringing on it's troubles some mor^Fe All the ^Flaws of the ^Dmjungle ^Fstranded on your ^Dmlatest sh^Dmore ^G But the ^Dmwaves hold the healer ^Fforce The years d^Fisappear like a ^Gghost ^FSomewhere out of the sight of the night and the light of ^Gday

Now ^Fcivilisation g^Groans and the news reel cries ^F Like a d^Frowning ^Dmman his ^Flife in ^Dmfront of his ^Dmeyes ^G Oh the ^Dmneed to keep con^Ftrol The ^Fneed to bare the ^Gsoul at the edge of the w^Dmorld ^GOn the edge of the w^Dmorld ^GOn the edge of the (^Fha-a-a-a ^Fra-a-a-a-^Ga) (^Fha-a-a-a-a ^Fra-a-a-a-^Dma-a) ^G

And the ^Dmman from St. ^DmKilda went ^Fover the ^Fcliff on a winter's ^Gday ^GAt the edge of the w^Dmorld ^GAt the edge of the w^Dmorld