John Frusciante - Real

I ^F#mdont know the ^Bmreal from what ^Ai thought ^Ei saw I cant remember where i went where i was

^F#mI'm gonna ^Bmmove toward a p^Aoint in t^Eime^{F#m F#m}Where where you ^Bmare is a st^Aate of mi^End

^BmAnd anyt^Aime I can ^Eread your ^F#mthoughts So^Bmme of them y^Aours and s^Eome I t^F#mhought of ^F#mTheres no good r^Eeason for a h^Dmaj7eartbreak n^F#mothing's repeatin^Eg every Mond^Dmaj7ay ^F#mIts no good sayi^Bmng you'll al^Aways be m^Dmaj7ine ^F#mThese jo^Bmkes life's pl^Aaying they m^Dmaj7ake me so tired so tired F#m Bm A Dmaj7 F#m Bm A Dmaj7

^F#mIt's already to ^Emuch to alwa^Ays see you ^Eoff ^F#mThe sense that h^Eours go back^A is enough ^E

^F#mI like to ^Bmfade when I^A write this l^Ein^F#me ^F#mThere's every re^Bmason to p^Aaint a decl^Eine ^BmAnd ever^Ay mile i w^Ealk is fiv^F#me I'll get ^Bmwhere I'm go^Aing in the^E next l^F#mife ^F#mAnd all the whil^Ee there's a ^Dmaj7false face ^F#mThis every kill^Eing is left ^Dmaj7untraced

^F#mThis kind of fal^Bmling saved my^A son ^{Dmaj7 F#m}This constant lo^Bmnging for wha^At's gone ^Dmaj7