The Byrds - The day walk

In your ^Gblue room sit with a ^G7candle lit On a ^Gcharcoal bed of ^G7dreams you carry ^Amon Though the ^Gstreets are hot you can ^G7still a lot But you ^Gcan walk out and ^G7forget there isn't ^Amtime to take a ^Cloan ^C7

But you're ^Fnow into something that ^E7you were immune to ^Abefore And there ^Fwasn't a sign you just ^E7fell into line at the ^Adoor ^F And the ^Gquestion sands in the ^G7palms of hands Of the ^Gwretches picking ^G7pieces of their ^Fminds up off the ^Cfloor

On the ^Gmantel place there is ^G7still a trace Of the ^Gplastic face you ^G7hung your moments ^Amon And the ^Gsudden scare of a ^G7landing there On the ^Gsea that you don't ^G7care to even ^Amsee when you're ^Calone ^C7

But the ^Fday is too short and you ^E7can't find support in the ^Asun You had ^Fthought you'd decide to just ^E7stick out the ride as it ^Acomes ^F But the ^Gemptiness of a ^G7thing that's less than ^Gwhat it was thought to ^G7be Has left you ^Fwondering just how much ^Cmore