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#----------------------------------PLEASE NOTE----------------------------------#
# This file is the author's own work and represents their interpretation of the #
# song. You may only use this file for private study, scholarship, or research. #
#-------------------------------------------------------------------------------#

Artist: The Decemberists
 Album: Castaways And Cutouts
  Song: July, July!

E    E7

A          B                   E                 D
There is a road that meets the road that goes to my house 
A          B           E
And how it green grows there 
And we've got special boots, to beat the path to my house 
And it's careful and it's careful when I'm there 

And I say your uncle was a crooked french canadian 
And he was gut-shot runnin gin 
And how his guts were all suspended in his fingers 
and how he held 'em, how he held 'em, held 'em in 

        F#m                  C#m        F#m                  C#m
And the water rolls down the drain, the water rolls down the drain, 
          D                  E
Oh what a lonely thing, in a lonely drain

A A      D D     E E      D D   A      D         E
    July,   July,    July        never seemed so strange
A A      D D     E E      D D   A      D           A      D         A         E  E7
    July,   July,    July        never seemed so,   never seemed so strange

This is the story of the road that goes to my house 
And what ghosts there do remain 
And all the troughs that run the length and breadth of my house 
And the chickens how they rattle chicken chains 

And we'll remember this when we are old and ancient 
Though the specifics might be vague 
And I'll say your camisole was sprightly light magenta 
When in fact it was a nappy blueish grey 

And the water rolls down the drain, the blood rolls down the drain 
Oh what a lonely thing in a blood red drain 

July, July, July, never seemed so strange
July, July, July, never seemed so, never seemed so, it never seemed so strange
It never seemed so strange, it never seemed so strange...

E   E7   A