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Tom: D

D                                          E                
     To the doting boys by, your side     

A                                                   D                      
     Riding roughshod on your starless nights 

D                                                      E                            
     To she who played concertos,   foul and black, 

A                                                   D                               
     Upon my heart strings and never looked back

E            F#                          Bm                        D C G 
    What became of those,     wild charms? 

                                                     D                            
The deep fry of the tide? The tug of the stars?

D              D7                            F#               Bm   D D7 G
    How it stares me, how it stares me now

                      G                 D 
To think my fire burnt them out.