Shins - Pink Bulletsadd

A#m      G#       D#       x4

A#m           G#     D#      A#m                  G#     D#
I was just bony hands as cold as a winter pole
A#m          G#          D#       A#m                 G#      D#
you held a warm stone out new flowing blood to hold
A#m        G#       D#     A#m                           G#      D#
oh what a contrast you were to the brutes in the halls
A#m              G#       D#      A#m           G#    D#
my timid young fingers held a decent animal

C#          G#
Over the ramparts you tossed
C#                 G#
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
C#          G#                B
tied to a brick sweet as a song
                     F#                         G#
the years have been short but the days were long

A#m         G#          D#          A#m                 G#     D#
Cool of a temperate breeze from dark skies to wet grass
A#m            G#         D#           A#m                  G#     D#
we fell in a field it seems now a thousand summers passed
A#m                      G#     D#    A#m                  G#     D#
when our kite lines first crossed we tied them into knots
A#m              G#   D#        A#m                G#    D#
and to finally fly apart we had to cut them off

C#                       G#
Since then it's been a book
               C#
you read in reverse
                   G#
so you understand less as the pages turn
C#               G#                 B
or a movie so crass and awkwardly cast
          F#                 G#
that even I could be the star

F#     G#           B         C#
I dont look back much as a rule
F#       G#               B         C#
and all this way before murder is cool
F#        G#                      C#           F#
but your memory is here and i'd like you to stay
           G#
a warm light on a winter's day

A#m       G#     D#      x6

C#          G#
Over the ramparts you tossed
C#                   G#
the scent of your skin and some foreign flowers
C#         G#               B
tied to brick sweet as a song
                      F#                           B
the years have been short but the days go slowly by
          F#
to loose kites falling from the sky
B               F#                    G#
drawn to the ground and an end to flight