My fa ther sits at night with (Gmaj7)no lights on,

his cig a rette glows in the (Gmaj7)dark;

the liv ing room is still; I walk by no re (Am)mark.

I tip toe past the mas ter (Gmaj7)bed room where

my moth er reads her mag a (Gmaj7)zines;

I hear her call “sweet dreams” but I for get how to (Am)dream.

But you say it’s time we (Em7)moved in to geth er,

and raised a fam ’ly of our own, you and me.

Well, that’s the way I al ways (Em7)heard it should be.

You want to (A)mar ry me,

we’ll (D)mar ry.

My friends from col lege, they’re all (Gmaj7)mar ried now;

they have their hous es and their (Gmaj7)lawns.

They have their si lent noons, tear ful nights, an gry (Am)dawns.

Their chil dren hate them for the (Gmaj7)things they’re not;

they hate them selves for what they (Gmaj7)are;

and yet they drink, they laugh, just close the wounds, hide the (Am)scar.

But you say it’s time we (Em7)moved in to geth er,

and raised a fam ’ly of our own, you and me.

Well, that’s the way I al ways (Em7)heard it should be.

You want to (A)mar ry me,

we’ll (D)mar ry.

(D)mar

ry.