Bon Iver – Bruised Orange Chain Of Sorrow (Guitar)

   A            D
e|-0------------2---------|
B|-2------------3---------|
G|-2------------2---------|
D|-2------------0---------|
A|-0---0--2--4------------|
E|------------------------|

    A
My heart's in the ice house, come hill or come valley

        D
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley

       A                         E
On a cold winter's morning to a church house

                     A
Just to shovel some snow

         A
I heard sirens on the train track howl naked gettin' nuder

    D
An altar boy's been hit by a local commuter

             A                                  E
Just from walking with his back turned to the train

                     A
That was coming so slow

         D
You can gaze out the window, get mad and get madder

            A
Throw you hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"

        E
But it don't do no good to get angry

              A
So help me I know

       D
For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter

        A
You become your own prisoner

                                         E
As you watch yourself sit there wrapped up in a trap

                               A
Of your very own chain of sorrow

         A
I been brought down to zero, pulled out and put back there

   D
I sat on the park bench, kissed the girl with the black hair

        A                        E
And my head shouted down to my heart:

                       A
"You better look out below"

         A
Hey, it ain't such a long drop, don't stammer, don't stutter

          D
From the diamonds in the sidewalk to the dirt in the gutter

         A                        E
And you carry those bruises to remind you

             A
Wherever you go

         D
You can gaze out the window, get mad and get madder

             A
Throw your hands in the air, say "What does it matter?"

        E
But it don't do no good to get angry

              A
So help me I know 

       D
For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter

        A
You become your own prisoner

                                         E
As you watch yourself sit there wrapped up in a trap

                               A
Of your very own chain of sorrow

    A
My heart's in the ice house, come hill or come valley

        D
Like a long ago Sunday when I walked through the alley

       A                         E
On a cold winter's morning to a church house

                     A
Just to shovel some snow