The Dear Hunter - Black sandy beaches

^AmMessages from broken bottles fall on bl^Cack sandy bea^Fches. ^AmInk in vain across the page now run f^Crom morning d^Few. ^AmHands which chance upon it lead to eyes which strain to^C read, ^Fhearts which pound from love long overdue. ^AmLips which press together, stifle, rhyt^Chmic, heavy, ^Fbreaths. Oh, how she sm^Dmiles from vicarious love from the o^Cne he write^Bbs about. She m^Dmust have been so glad for^C him to throw^Bb it out.

Further st^Ameps lead to yet another broken bo^Cttle, ^Fagain the words contained have bled the page. ^AmWhose tears were these, which ran the ink^C? Fr^Fom who they'd pour to make this streak?

^AmWere they his by chance from telling her, or hers by chance from reading it? ^CThey could have been collective ^FThey could have been from someone else ^AmWhy don't we see what's at the bottom?^C W^Fhy don't we see what comes next? Oh how she cr^Dmies from vicarious pain from the o^Cne he writes a^Bbbout. She m^Dmust have been so sad for him^C to throw her ^Bbout. Let's just say s^Fhe, she is b^Ametter, ^Dmbetter off^C some^Bbhow. Let's just say^F she, she has ne^Amver been ^Dmhappier^C than she is^Bb now. We couldn't f^Gmake it, so why even try? Let's just s^Fay she is be^Amtter, ^Dmbetter off^C someh^Bbow. Let's just say s^Fhe has ne^Amver been ^Dmhappier^C than she is^Bb now. Let's ju^Fst say she is ^Ambetter, ^Dmbetter off^C some^Bbhow. Let's j^Fust say she has^Am never been ^Dmhappier, hap^Cpier than she ^Bbis now. ^F