The Decemberists - July July

	  		
Intro: E 

A     B     E    D 
There is a road that meets the road That goes to my house 
A     B     E 
And how the green grows there 

A     B     E    D 
And we've got special boots To beat the path to my house 
A     B     E 
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there 

A     B     E    D 
And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian 
A     B     E 
And he was gut-shot running gin 

A     B     E    D 
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers 
A     B     E 
and how he held 'em How he held 'em held 'em in 

F#m E 
And the water rolls down the drain 
F#m E 
The water rolls down the drain 
       D 
O what a lonely thing 
       E 
In a lonely drain 

A  D  E  D 
July July July 
A  D  E  D 
It never seemed so strange 
A  D  E  D 
July July July 
A  D  E  D  A  D  E  D 
It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange 

E 

A     B     E    D 
This is the story of the road that goes to my house 
A     B     E 
And what ghosts there do remain 

A     B     E    D 
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house 
A     B     E 
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains 

A     B     E    D 
And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient 
A     B     E 
Though the specifics might be vague 

A     B     E    D 
And I'll say your camisole was a sprightly light magenta 
A     B     E 
When in fact it was a nappy bluish grey 

F#m E 
And the water rolls down the drain 
F#m E 
The blood rolls down the drain 
       D 
O what a lonely thing 
       E 
In a blood red drain 

A  D  E  D 
July July July 
A  D  E  D 
It never seemed so strange 
A  D  E  D 
July July July 
A  D  E  D  A  D  E  D 
It never seemed so strange never seemed so strange 

E 
A