Standard (EADGBE)

They’re pickin’ up pieces of me,

While they’re pickin’ up pieces of you.

In a bag you will be, before the day is over.

Were you looking for somewhere to be.

Or looking for someone to do.

Stupid me, to believe that I could trust in stupid you.

And on the back of my hand,

Were, directions I could understand.

Now that old buzzard Johnny Walker,

Has gone and ruined all our plans.

Our best-made plans.

Chorus

Don’t leave me here, to cast through time,

Without a map, or road sign.

Don’t leave me here, my guiding light,

‘Cause I... I... wouldn’t know where to begin.

I asked the Kings of Medicine.

They’re pickin’ up pieces of me,

While they’re pickin’ up pieces of you.

Lying on ice you will be before the day is over.

It’s a case in point baby,

That you never thought it through.

Stupid me, that I could depend on stupid you.

And on the tip of my tongue,

Were, words that always came out all wrong.

‘Cause they were drowned in Southern Comfort,

Left to dry-out in the Sun,

The noon-day Sun.

Chorus x2

Don’t leave me here, to cast through time,

Without a map, or road sign.

Don’t leave me here, my guiding light,

‘Cause I... I... wouldn’t know where to begin.

I asked the Kings of Medicine.

But it seems that they’ve lost their powers.

Now all I’m left with is the hour.

Don’t leave me here,

I wouldn’t know where to begin.