bass/E
D
A
D/E
He likes to have the morning paper's crossword solved
/E
D
A
D/E
Words go up words come down, forwards, backwards twisted round
/E
D
A
He grabs a pile of letters from a small suit case
/E
D
C#m
Disappers into an office its another working day
Chorus 1:
D
Bm7
C#m7
D
E
Bm7
C#m7
D
And his thoughts are full of strangers, corridors of naked lights
E
Bm7
C#m7
D
E
Bm7
C#m7
D
And his mind once full of reason, Now there' more than meets the eye
/E
F#m
D
A
Now a strangers face he carries with him
Verse 2:
Bm
/E
C#m
/E
D/E
C#
Bm
/E
C#m
/E
D/E
C#m
/E
Bm
/E
C#m
/E
D/E
and at heart he's full of strangers, dodging on his train of thought
Bm
/E
C#m
/E
D/E
C#m
/E