THERE ARE LITTLE BITS IN THE VERSES SOMETIMES HERE THEY ARE:


(1)

e | ------ | 
b | ------ | 
g | -3---- | ---slight bend on the g string
d | ----4- | 
a | ------ | 
e | ------ | 

(2)

e | ------ | 
b | ------ | 
g | -4--3- | ---go ahead and whack a slight bend on these too
d | ------ | 
a | ------ | 
e | ------ | 


I WILL REFER TO THEM BELOW AS (1) AND (2)
IT IS THE EASIEST WAY I COULD THINK TO DO IT


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The intro is a frantically picked Abm for about 30 seconds,
then this happens:

e | ------------------------- | 
b | -------------------5~~~~~ | 
g | -(b9)-8--------11-8--6~~~~~ | 
d | -------6~~~~~------6~~~~~ | 
a | -7--6--6~~~~~(b9)-6--4~~~~~ | 
e | -------4~~~~~------------ | 

Carry on frantically picking C#m for a while,
then two single massive strums of Abm ,
and then...

            Abm                  B        
...voice of wind, the air in the branches

   (1)       E                   Abm
Sounded like words, whispering a spell on me

 (2)    E 
Until I heard

          Abm
Now I see shapes in the low light

          B
The earth quakes in the twilight

      C#m
I see flames in my calm life

                     E
Hear the wind's dark poem


(((frantic Abm picking with violent wind, if there is some nearby)))


        Abm
You can see from above, the rocks sticking out of

    B                                      (1)
the yard behind the house make stone constellations,

E                                        Ebm      Ebm7
   half-buried in the dusk, the unformed stories

          Abm
coming to life while I sleep.

                                 B
The breath moves branches saying words that I don't know,

            (1)  E
a new poem ,         a song I sang in a dream.

    Ebm                   Ebm7
The lights of town faint,

               Abm
something is exhaling in the sound of traffic far away.

             B                             (1)
Something is happening. Wind's dark poem describes,

E                                               Ebm          Ebm7
   calligraphy of branches writes, stone constellation alive.

                        Abm                   B
The house is built on a boulder, soil returns to the wind.

                  (1)     
Bones will blow in pink light.

E
   The distant sound is saying my name,

Ebm                     Ebm7
     the wind is taking pieces.

Abm                                           Abm
     Wind's dark poem is about the constantly roaring decay

                                  F#5
The destruction of every day, and every morning's waking.


(((stop playing, sing against the gentle hum of silence)))


But even as spring is bringing blossoms back among leaves,
the cold wind blows when night falls,
and the bare branches bend.


(((gentle hum of silence becomes tidal wave of sound)))


(((end)))