Written by John Frusciante
F#m D You fall around these times F#m D Where you made me come, dear F#m D Leave all the days behind F#m D That made you run F#m D I shall forget the days F#m D That you told me too F#m D I was such a waste F#m D When I cut myself out A D A D Now the fall is over, baby A D You'll descend A But at a rate A D You'll find is slow ( F#m D F#m D ) F#m D F#m D And all these times afraid to walk the room F#m D F#m D That you have to take, there is no other way F#m D F#m D It's forces far above you, though you want me too F#m D F#m D I'll decorate these heights, I'll make it fit right A D A D Somehow we wait from old to young A D A D A Now the word is small D F#m D All the way over Final F#m D F#m D F#m