Chords for Aviators - All Hallows (Halloween Song | Darksynth)

[N] _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ _ _ [A] _ _
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[A] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
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[Am] _ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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[A] _ Still air, [F] the hottest moon in the [Am] sky, rules the sky, the best [D] _ supernatural [A] demise.
The sun's rays [Am] there, on the back [F] of your neck, tells [Am] you something is looking tonight. _ _
The hills of the octo-moon are howling through the trees, sunsets all the night to bring the [D] bravest to their knees.
[Am] A thing that lightens the dead, living spirits through [F] the grey, [Am] shadows for the beast, it comes [Dm] to scare us all away.
[Am] The dust [F] takes all hell, _
[Dm] a feeling's [C] unpopular, often [G] the gallant [Am] of a good snipe.
[F] A prone chiller, [Dm] can't fool your eyes, [C] can't tell if we're in a thriller.
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[Am] The beast, a bounty for violent delight, release from hell and its unending spite.
One wish [F] every hundred years, to let [Am] the master in the living [D] fight. _
[Am] A ravenous monstrosity, a proof of the shame, a hoax on account of size, a [D] rise without a name.
[Am] A living end, a citizen, or the [C] thief of death, [A] whose brains are dimpled angels, they will [D] bury them in [Am] stead.
The dust [F] takes all hell, [Dm] a feeling's [G] unpopular, often the gallant [Am] of a good [F] snipe.
A prone [Dm] chiller, can't fool your eyes, can't tell if we're [G] in a thriller.
[A] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ [A] _
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[Am] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ _ [G] _ _
[Am] _ Spirits and the [Dm] whispers, _ _
[Am] shadows come _ _ [G] alive.
[Am] Dead ones in their sleep, no longer, wishing to _ _ [G] arise.
[Am] _ Three rainbows between them, _ heads are drawn [C] within a [G] hallowed hell.
[Am] A lifetime to hide [Dm] and a son will leave, [Am]
when the moth's little brown [C] jewelry's filled.
[G] _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[D] _ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _ _
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[Dm] _ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[A] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ The dust [F] takes all hell, [Dm] a feeling's unpopular, often [G] the gallant [Am] of a good [F] snipe.
A prone chiller, [Dm] can't fool your eyes, can't tell if we're [A] in a thriller.
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[Dm] _ _ _ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[Dm] _ _ _ _ [C] _ _ [G] _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [F] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ [D] _ _ _ _
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[A] _ _ _ _ [Dm] _ _ _ _
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[D] _ _ _ _ [E] _ _ _ _
[Am] _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
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