Young Guns - Stitches

Every ^G#mhour is a season Every ^Eminute lasts a day So I s^G#mit here picking stitches I find ^Ecomfort in decay How I l^F#ong to fill my l^Eungs

So tell me how does it f^G#meel to, Br^Eeathe air cold and clean 'Cause I^G#m've been living on my knees since I w^Eas seventeen Thought I was s^F#afe beneath the smo^Eke, But even under c^F#over I still cho^Eke

Well my w^G#mings were clipped and e^Even if they w^Beren't (Even if they w^F#eren't) I've not the ^G#mguts to fly and le^Eave behind the E^Barth (Leave behind the ^F#Earth) There's no p^G#moetry in my s^Eoul, Just a l^Bist of lies I've t^F#old, And I d^G#mon't know how much l^Eonger I can h^Bold ^F#on.

^G#mPoetry, in my soul. L^Eist of lies, that I've told... (x2) Chorus (two times, second time quietly, almost whispering):

Well my w^G#mings were clipped and e^Even if they w^Beren't (Even if they w^F#eren't) I've not the ^G#mguts to fly and le^Eave behind the E^Barth (Leave behind the ^F#Earth) There's no p^G#moetry in my s^Eoul, Just a l^Bist of lies I've t^F#old, And I d^G#mon't know how much l^Eonger I can h^Bold ^F#on.