Taylor

         A                      
they say taylor was a good girl, 
  E
never one to be late
 F#m              D             A
complain, express ideas in her 
     E  F#m  D
brain
A                           E
working on the night shift, passing 
out the tickets,
       F#m                  D     
youre gonna have to pay her if you
                   A E F#m D
 want to park here
      A                        E
well mommys little dancer has quite 
a little secret
F#m                          D   
working on the streets now, never
              A E F#m D
 gonna keep it
     A                      E
its quite an imposition and now shes
 only wishing
      F#m                    D    
that she would have listened to 
               A  E  F#m
the words they said
D
poor taylor

A            E             
she(HE) just wanders around, 
F#m   D              A
unaffected by
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    E            F#m  D          
the winter winds and 
         A
she'll(he'll) pretend that
            E            F#m  D  
shes(he's) somewhere else, so far
           A
 and clear
      E             F#m
about two thousand miles from here

A             E                  
peter patrick pitter patters on 
   F#m     D
the window
    A             E            
but sunny silhouette wont let 
F#m      D
him in
A                  E             
poor old petes got nothing 
           F#m      D
because hes been falling
         A          E          
somehow sunny knows just where 
F#m      D
hes been
               A                   
he thinks that singing on sunday is
       E        F#m    D
 gonna save his soul
A        E    F#m         D
now that saturday is gone
A            E               F#m
sometimes he thinks that hes on 
    D
his way
          A    E  F#m
but i can see
          D
that his break lights are on

(Chorus)
        A               E
such a tough enchilada filled up 
with nada
F#m                    D         
giving what she gotta give to get
          A    E F#m D
 a dollar bill
        A                    E
used to be a limber chicken, times a
 been a ticking
F#m                      D
nows shes finger licking to the man
         A                   E
with the money in his pocket flying 
in his rocket
F#m                     D        
only stopping by on his way to a 
        A
better world