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Odd Hours by Ragon Linde 




                                   Odd Hours 





[Intro]
Bm Bm

[Verse 1]
F#m                                 A
They emerge at odd hours
            E                                                           G                        
Always crouched like wilting string beans, or oversized soap 
D
bubbles, 
F#m                          A                              E           G       D
well over prime,  instantly vulnerable, silent
Bm                                        D
In remote corners of their PROPERTY
               A
They’ll weed awhile,
C                                G                                                  Bm  
Jerking the veins of unwanted intruders from their domestic carpet-dream;
        A                               G
It’s what they have,
                       F#m
what they control,
                        Bm 
what they do

[Verse 2]
F#m                                         A
When careers have yielded to succulents,
          E
they appear on weekdays,
          G                   D
with mid-morning saws, leaf blowing,
F#m
edge and hedge trimming,
      A
fumes for the elms,
E
oscillating decibels for infants,
    G                    D
vibrations for ant colonies.
Bm                                                            D
Eleanor tempts the last light with an impromptu tour of her lawn;
                     A                        
She hears crows descending 
        G                               D
and wonders about their youth.
Bm
Never seen any nests,
          D
never seen baby crows,
                A
they just appear fully grown;
        C                         G
Their numbers have increased,
         Bm                        A            
that Hitchcock could see 
       G                               F#m
the tree behind the alley

[Verse 3]
F#m                                   A
I could never make that sudden appearance;
                E                        G         D
Mine was never a life of home-owning
    F#m                                     A
I care less for lawns than lives.
      E                                G                      D
Slightly more for ideas than irises;
Bm                                            D
When my road becomes a U-turn,
                   A                               C     G
I see my father in their eyes,
Bm                                                D
I attempt, again, to find the contentment in raking leaves,
                        A                                       C    G
capturing them all before another falls
         Bm
and another
           A
still another
G             F#m
always another

[Outro]
Bm  Bm









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