"Source Decay" - written by john darnielle
tabbed by Russ Sweetser
[email protected]
------------------------------------------
E--A--E---A
[E]Once a week I make the drive
[F#]two hours east to check the [A]Austin post office box.
[E]I take the detour throu[F#]gh our old neighborhood,
see all the Chev[A]y Impalas in their front y[B]ards up on blocks,
and I p[A]ark in an alley and I r[B]ead through the postcards
that you c[E]ontinue to send:[A]
where as i[F#]ndirectly as you can you a[A]sk what I remember.
I like these to[E]rture devices from my o[B]ld best friend.
Well I'll t[C#]ell you what I know
like I sw[F#]ore I always would --
I don't t[A]hink it's gonna do[B] you any good:
I rem[E]ember the t[A]rain headed so[E]uth out of B[A]angkok d[B]own to[A]ward the w[E]ater.
[A] [E] [A] [E]
[E]I always get a late start,
when the s[F#]un's going down
and the t[A]raffic's thinning out
and the g[E]lare is hard to take. I wish the
[E]West Texas highway was a [F#]Mbius strip --
I could r[A]ide it out forever. When I f[B]eel my heart break,
I almost s[A]wear I hear it happen, it's that c[B]lear and that hard.
I c[E]ome in off the highway and I p[A]ark in my front yard.
I f[C#]all out of the car
like a h[F#]ostage from a plane,
[A]think of you a while and
start w[B]ishing it would rain.
[E]I remember the [A]train headed [E]south out of [A]Bangkok [B]down t[A]oward the [E]water.
[A] [E] [A] [E]
I [E]come into the house,
put o[F#]n a pot of coffee,
[A]walk the floors a little[E] while.
[E]I set the postcard on a table with [F#]all the others like it,
[A]start sorting through the [B]pile.
[A]I check the pictures and the postmarks
and the c[B]aptions and the stamps
for s[E]igns of any pattern at a[A]ll.
When I c[F#]ome up empty-handed, the feeling al[A]most overwhelms me.
[E]I let a few of my [B]defenses fall
and I sm[C#]ile a bitter smile -- it's not a[F#] pretty thing to see --
I think a[A]bout a railroad platform back in 1[B]983
[E] [A] [E] [A][B]
[A]and I remember the[E] train headed south out of Bangkok down toward toward
the water
tabbed by Russ Sweetser
[email protected]
------------------------------------------
E--A--E---A
[E]Once a week I make the drive
[F#]two hours east to check the [A]Austin post office box.
[E]I take the detour throu[F#]gh our old neighborhood,
see all the Chev[A]y Impalas in their front y[B]ards up on blocks,
and I p[A]ark in an alley and I r[B]ead through the postcards
that you c[E]ontinue to send:[A]
where as i[F#]ndirectly as you can you a[A]sk what I remember.
I like these to[E]rture devices from my o[B]ld best friend.
Well I'll t[C#]ell you what I know
like I sw[F#]ore I always would --
I don't t[A]hink it's gonna do[B] you any good:
I rem[E]ember the t[A]rain headed so[E]uth out of B[A]angkok d[B]own to[A]ward the w[E]ater.
[A] [E] [A] [E]
[E]I always get a late start,
when the s[F#]un's going down
and the t[A]raffic's thinning out
and the g[E]lare is hard to take. I wish the
[E]West Texas highway was a [F#]Mbius strip --
I could r[A]ide it out forever. When I f[B]eel my heart break,
I almost s[A]wear I hear it happen, it's that c[B]lear and that hard.
I c[E]ome in off the highway and I p[A]ark in my front yard.
I f[C#]all out of the car
like a h[F#]ostage from a plane,
[A]think of you a while and
start w[B]ishing it would rain.
[E]I remember the [A]train headed [E]south out of [A]Bangkok [B]down t[A]oward the [E]water.
[A] [E] [A] [E]
I [E]come into the house,
put o[F#]n a pot of coffee,
[A]walk the floors a little[E] while.
[E]I set the postcard on a table with [F#]all the others like it,
[A]start sorting through the [B]pile.
[A]I check the pictures and the postmarks
and the c[B]aptions and the stamps
for s[E]igns of any pattern at a[A]ll.
When I c[F#]ome up empty-handed, the feeling al[A]most overwhelms me.
[E]I let a few of my [B]defenses fall
and I sm[C#]ile a bitter smile -- it's not a[F#] pretty thing to see --
I think a[A]bout a railroad platform back in 1[B]983
[E] [A] [E] [A][B]
[A]and I remember the[E] train headed south out of Bangkok down toward toward
the water
