The Novelist

F        E7
I am New York
F         E7
Tired and weak
F                                 
I tried to write a book each time 
  F
I speak
           E7
Mother and me
F          E7
Sister and I
F      F/E  F/Eb        F/E      F
Sunday afternoons still bleed me dry

[Chorus 1]

Am        E
Listen to Dylan
         Am
Shut the door
        E
Nobody cares anymore
Am        E
Trying so hard
           F
To craft a rhyme
Continúa después del anuncio
                 C
With nickels and dimes

[Verse 2]

F        E7
I am New York
F           E7
Ten stories tall
F       F/E     F/Eb  F/E    F
Pull me from my pen before I fall

[Chorus 2]

Am        E
Listen to Dylan
         Am
Shut the door
       E
Nobody cares anymore
Am         E
Trying so hard
           F
To craft a rhyme
                 C
With nickels and dimes

[Bridge]

Dm    F               Bb
Maybe mother, she was right:
           F
"love is a waste
       Bb             F
It's a pill everyone tastes
       C      C
In your mouth"

[Verse 3]

F        E7
I am New York
F         E7
Tired and weak
F        F/E     F/Eb      F/E  
Tried to write a book each time I 
  F
speak