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EbGmFGmFEbEbBbBb6Bb7Bb6
It's a stEbill lifGme watFercolor
Of a nowEb late aftGmernoFon
As the sun sEbhines throGmugh the curtain laceF
And shadBbows wash the room Bb6 Bb7 Bb6
And we sit anGmd drink our coffee
AbCouched in our indifference
Like shelGls upon the shore
You can hear theF ocean roar
In the dangliEbng conversatGmion F
And the superfBbicial Fsighs Eb
The borEbders of our lives Bb Bb6 Bb7 Bb6
And you read yoEbur Emily DickGminsonF
And I mEby RobeGmrt FrosFt
And we note oEbur place wiGmth bookmarkerFs
That meaBbsure what we've lost Bb6 Bb7 Bb6
Like a poeGmm poorly written
We are versesAb out of rhythm
GCouplets out of rhyme
In sFyncopated time.
And the danglEbing conversaGmtion F
And the superfBbicial Fsighs Eb
Are the bordeEbrs of our lives Bb B6 B7 B6
Yes we speak Ebof things thGmat matter F
With wordsEb that must be Gmsaid F
Can analysiEbs be woGmrthwhFile?
Is the theaBbtre really dead? Bb6 Bb7 Bb6
And hoGmw the room has softly faded
And I onlAby kiss your shadow
I Gcannot feel your hand
You're a stranFger now unto me
Lost in the dangliEbng conversatGmion F
And the superfBbicial Fsighs Eb
In the borEbders of our lives Bb Bb6 Bb7 Bb6 Bb
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