The Sundays - Folk song

^GSummer sky and a ^Gthroat bone dry and t^Che fields are all g^Cm7old ^GDusty lane with a ^Gsong in my brain and i^Ct stoned me to my ^Cm7soul

^Am7I climb h^Emigher ^Bmmove towards the ^Cm7fire, bl^Daze su^Fn [Solo] x4 |G

^GSilver trees and a ^Gwhispering breeze ^Care my sight and m^Cm7y sound ^GThe thought of heaven couldn't ^Gdrag me from the path ^Cwhen I'm wandering here a^Cm7lone [Chorus] ^Am7I climb ^Emhigher ^Bmmove towards the ^Cm7fire so ^Dblaze ^Fsu^Gn ^Am7Watch until it^Em dies s^Bmlow falling from the ^Cm7sky pale^D fadin^Fg sun

^FNow Oooh Oooh ^{G F}Now Oooh Oooh ^GAhhh (oh oh oh oh) ^FNow Oooh Oooh ^GOooh Ahhh ^FNow Oooh Oooh ^GOooh Aaah