Chords
Subbuteo

Key: E

Introduction:

 E 
Hello, my chum
                                                                               C#m 
It's me and I'm banging on your door
                       B 
It's been far too long
                                                                                           A 
Since we set the leaves alight down on the floor
             E 
I've returned for a while
                                                                                         C#m 
To the concrete that once claimed my knees
                     B 
And the stones my hands owned
                                                                         A 
As I sent them toward windows and trees
                     F#m 
Towering trees
                       B          B7          E 
Towering trees
Verse 2
 E 
There are bangers in the wheely bins
                                                                       C#m 
Lazer pens shone through the glass
         B 
And BB after BB fired
                                                                     A 
From behind the wall beyond the grass
                           E 
And though boots met my face
                                                                                 C#m 
And knuckles cracked me black as coal
                 B 
I care not for the mindless
                                                                   A 
Who poked fear at my sorry soul
         F#m 
My soul
           B          B7 
My soul
                                 E 
And I miss the rain on the roof
                                                                       C#m 
Pitstop paths and whistling streams
                               B 
I miss the Coldstream chips
                                                                 A 
The red subbuteo team painted green
 E 
Built on back fields,
                                                             C#m 
It seemed a thorn in my child side
                                       B 
Instead became a grit-soaked playground
                                                                     A 
Where the propers and the poor collide
                   E 
Oh, it might sound dull
                                                                     C#m 
But dull's sometimes all we have
                       B 
Yeah, it might sound dull
                                                   A 
But dull's all we ever have
                     E 
Sometimes I talk with the meter
                                                                       C#m 
Of a bingo caller's east-end drawl
                                     B 
Who cares  we're all just trying to float
                           B                                 A 
While everything seems set to fall
       F#m 
So hard
   B         B7 
So hard