(Dreaming Through the Noise - 2006)
Intro: C ...
[C]Sunday: [C]dark water draining north, the [F#]heat swells and bursts [C]like plague.
[C]Sunday: [C]ever-so-faint slow tambou[F#]rine glides onward toward the [C]grave.
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line?
Who drew the line bet[E]ween you and me?
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line that [G]everyone sees?
[C]Darling, [C]Lake Pontchartrain is haunted: [F#]bones without names,
photographs framed [C]in reeds.
[C]Darling, [C]what blood our veins are holding.
The [F#]overpass frozen, fires ablaze [C]at sea.
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line?
Who drew the line that [E]cuts to the skin, buries me in?
Tell me [Abmaj7]who drew the line.
Darling don't close [G]your eyes.
Interlude: C ... F# ...
[Fm]Lie as [Eb]darkness [Ab]hard[Cm]ens.
[Fm]Lie of [Eb]our re[Ab]unio[Cm]n.
O [Db]lie if [Eb]God is [Ab]slee[Cm]ping.
O [Db]I be[Eb]lieve you [Fm]now.
[Fm]Fm [Eb]Eb [Ab]Ab [Cm]C ... F# ... C ... F# ... C ... F# ... C ... F# ...
[C]Darling, [C]Lake Pontchartrain will cradle [F#]me, and all you left be[C]hind.
[C]Listen: [C]ever-so-faint slow tambour[F#]ine is marching back through [C]time.
Intro: C ...
[C]Sunday: [C]dark water draining north, the [F#]heat swells and bursts [C]like plague.
[C]Sunday: [C]ever-so-faint slow tambou[F#]rine glides onward toward the [C]grave.
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line?
Who drew the line bet[E]ween you and me?
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line that [G]everyone sees?
[C]Darling, [C]Lake Pontchartrain is haunted: [F#]bones without names,
photographs framed [C]in reeds.
[C]Darling, [C]what blood our veins are holding.
The [F#]overpass frozen, fires ablaze [C]at sea.
Who drew the [Abmaj7]line?
Who drew the line that [E]cuts to the skin, buries me in?
Tell me [Abmaj7]who drew the line.
Darling don't close [G]your eyes.
Interlude: C ... F# ...
[Fm]Lie as [Eb]darkness [Ab]hard[Cm]ens.
[Fm]Lie of [Eb]our re[Ab]unio[Cm]n.
O [Db]lie if [Eb]God is [Ab]slee[Cm]ping.
O [Db]I be[Eb]lieve you [Fm]now.
[Fm]Fm [Eb]Eb [Ab]Ab [Cm]C ... F# ... C ... F# ... C ... F# ... C ... F# ...
[C]Darling, [C]Lake Pontchartrain will cradle [F#]me, and all you left be[C]hind.
[C]Listen: [C]ever-so-faint slow tambour[F#]ine is marching back through [C]time.