Отключить рекламуBm D A G
BmThe cute bomber jacket you've had since sixth form
DAdorned with patches of places you've been
AIs nothing on my khaki coat I got
GFrom a roadside when I was sixteen
BmMy boots are from airports
My backpack's from friends
DI'm not a man of substance, and so I'll pretend
ATo be a wanderer, wondering
GLeaving ascetic belongings in hostels and restaurant bins
BmThe roads are my home, horizon's my target
DIf I keep on moving, never lose sight of it
ATreating my memory of you like a fire, let it
GBurn out, don't fight it, and try to move on
BmIt's been sixty weeks since I saw Vienna
DA bandage and a wide smile slapped across my face
AI'll pick up my hiking boots when I Am ready
GAnd I'll put down my roots when I'm dead
-single strums-
BmThe distance is futile
ACome on, don't be hasty
F#m GYou'll get that feeling deep inside your bones
BmI'll be gone then, for when you must be alone
Bm D A G
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