F#m E
They call holidays an option for a reason
D
I heard you're coming back to life just for the fourth
F#m E
I've Been catching all your ghosts for every season
D
I pray to God you won't come back here anymore
F#m E D
Do you pray with him, too?
F#m
They should deliver all my blessings
E D
In small brown paper handbags near the porch
F#m E
I wished I'd known that you were bleeding while I sat
D
And watched you reading with the lord
Bm
I read with him, too
A
When you look at me
F#m E Bm
I'll Be digesting your legs
A
Cause I can hardly see
E D
What's in front of me these days
F#m E D
And those days, too
F#m
I've got to take what I'm making
And turn it into something
E
I've got to take what I'm making
And turn it into something
D
For you
F#m
I've got to break what I'm making
And turn it into nothing
E
I've got to break what I'm making
And turn it into nothing
D
For you
F#m E D
God, where have you been?
