++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ | Carla Bruni- At Last The Secret Is Out | ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "The tongue has its desire..." Tuning: Standard Capo on 1st fret Chords: F: 133211 G: 320003 A7: x02020 Bm: x24430 C: x32010 Dsus2: xx0230 Intro 1. e|-----3-3----3-3----3-3----3-3--| B|-----3-3----3-3----3-3----3-3--| G|-------------------------------| D|--3~---------------------------| A|---------3~--------------------| E|----------------3~-----3~------| F C G Verse F C At last the secret is out, G F C G as it always must come in the end, F C G the delicious story is ripe to tell F C G to the intimate friend; Chorus Bm C over the tea-cups and into the square Dsus2 G the tongue has its desire; Bm C still waters run deep, my dear, Dsus2 G there's never smoke without fire. Bm C Behind the corpse in the reservoir, Dsus2 G behind the ghost on the links, Bm C behind the lady who dances Dsus2 F C G and the man who madly drinks, Verse F C under the look of fatigue D F C G the attack of migraine and the sigh F C there is always another story, G F C G there is more than meets the eye. Chorus Bm C For the clear voice suddenly singing, Dsus2 G high up in the convent wall, Bm C the scent of the elder bushes, Dsus2 G the sporting prints in the hall, Bm C the croquet matches in summer, Dsus2 G Bm the handshake, the cough, the kiss, C A7 the kiss, the kiss Bm C there is always a wicked secret, Dsus2 G a private reason for this Bm - C - D - G Outro F - C - G - G Please rate thanks! Lyrics: At last the secret is out, as it always must come in the end, the delicious story is ripe to tell to tell to the intimate friend; over the tea-cups and into the square the tongues has its desire; still waters run deep, my dear, there's never smoke without fire. Behind the corpse in the reservoir, behind the ghost on the links, behind the lady who dances and the man who madly drinks, under the look of fatigue the attack of migraine and the sigh there is always another story, there is more than meets the eye. For the clear voice suddenly singing, high up in the convent wall, the scent of the elder bushes, the sporting prints in the hall, the croquet matches in summer, the handshake, the cough, the kiss, there is always a wicked secret, a private reason for this +++++++++++ | Raileff | +++++++++++