^Bb6It's a ^Ebstill life ^Bbwater ^Fcolor Of a ^Ebnow late ^Bbafter^Fnoon As the ^Ebsun shines ^Bbthrough the ^Fcurtained lace And ^Bbshadows wash the ^Bb6room ^{Bbmaj7 Bb6} And we ^Gmsit and drink our coffee ^AbCouched in our indifference Like ^Gshells upon the shore You can ^Fhear the ocean roar In the ^Ebdangling ^Bbconver^Fsation And the ^Bbsuper^Fficial ^Ebsighs The borders of our ^Bblives ^{Bb6 Bbmaj7 Bb6}

^Bb6And you ^Ebread your Emily ^FDickinson And ^EbI my ^BbRobert ^FFrost And we ^Ebnote our ^Bbplace with ^Fbookmarkers That ^Bbmeasure what we've ^Bb6lost ^{Bbmaj7 Bb6} Like a ^Gmpoem poorly written We are ^Abverses out of rhythm ^GCouplets out of rhyme In ^Fsyncopated time And the ^Ebdangling ^Bbconver^Fsation And the ^Bbsuper^Fficial ^Ebsighs Are the borders of our ^Bblives ^{Bb6 Bbmaj7 Bb6}

^Bb6Yes, we ^Ebspeak of ^Bbthings that ^Fmatter With ^Ebwords that ^Bbmust be ^Fsaid "Can an^Ebaly^Bbsis be ^Fworthwhile?" "Is the ^Bbtheater really ^Bb6dead?"^{Bbmaj7 Bb6} And how the ^Gmroom is softly faded And I ^Amonly kiss your shadow I ^Gcannot feel your hand You're a ^Fstranger now unto me Lost in the ^Ebdangling ^Bbconver^Fsation And the ^Bbsuperficial ^Ebsighs In the borders of our ^Bblives ^{Bb6 Bbmaj7 Bb}