Anne Louise

Am C Am C This leathers called a seat belt Anne Louise Am C Your head out of the window in the cooling summer breeze F G And in the air were all the things you claimed we need F G They seemed to be worth less than once I did believe Am C And I swear to God that I'll avenge your death Am C With the best lawyers of auto-politics F G And I'll spend whatever money's to be spent F G To try and revive your broken body again Am C And the penny-pitching funeral was shit Am C Your body in a plastic frame that I threw flowers in F G And I hope to God that you'll remember me in heaven F G God I hope you don't remember that in heaven F G God I hope that they'll allow me into heaven Am C Look what I've become Am C Look what I've become Am