butterflies Chords by Samsa
Tempo:
88.5 bpm
Chords used:
Eb
Ab
Bb
Abm
Fm
Tuning:Standard Tuning (EADGBE)Capo:+0fret
Start Jamming...
[Eb] [Ab] [Eb] [Ab] [Bb] [Eb]
[Eb] [Ab] [Eb] I think I'm in love, but I've been feeling [Eb] otherwise.
These flutters in my stomach aren't butterflies, but [Bb] cutting knives and [Eb] not the butter kind.
And if you listen close when she begins to [Bb] speak, you'll hear a couple hundred [Eb] sighs
in the collective shut of eyes.
Letters linger on her lips [Ab] like lullabies.
[Eb] I think I've drowned a couple times inside her opal colored eyes.
She could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives.
[Abm] A perfect [Eb] 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs.
Cats are wearing loose pajamas on a Sunday, and she'd overshadow any supermodel on a runway.
When she wakes up in the morning, she smells like vanilla essence [Ab] and the [Eb] bittersweet recollections
of your adolescence.
Summer camp and [Ab] piano lessons and presents you got [Eb] on birthdays.
Orange creamsicles [Ab] and double plays [Bb] on first [Eb] base.
And walk past her in the halls, and if your shoulders feel the [Bb] slightest brush, you might
melt to [Eb] liquid gold.
The lightest kind of Midas touch-ups.
Seeing the way she drinks [Ab] espresso during [Eb] classes and reshapes a paper [Ab] cup into an [Eb] emerald
cup of childish sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin [Eb] origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances
[Ab] to me through her [Bb] Giorgio Armani [Eb] frames.
[Eb] She's nearly perfect [Bb] in [Eb] almost every way.
But she's [Ab] got shit taste [Eb] in movies.
Ask her for [Ab] her favorite [Bb] titles, and she always [Eb] likes to say she's down to go see anything
by Shyamalan [Bb] or Michael Bay.
And also, she's [Eb] a psycho in the kitchen.
It's a travesty.
What kind of fucking monster cooks their [Ab] pasta in a [Eb] microwave?
And she does this thing where she [Eb] corrects your grammar if it's wrong and clicks her
tongue and wakes and shoots a [Eb] playful finger gun as if she's won some sort of contest.
Empress Victor of a conquest.
Mrs.
Armchair shrink.
Let me fix you with a [Fm] comment.
Princess [Eb] Kiki when you're down.
Warshipper to a godhead.
It seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn't chime in quick with unsolicited
advice and unapologetic tyrant of passive-aggressive rivalry.
[Bb] Ask her a [Eb] question and catch a handful of sass and irony and trust me, [Ab] really, she is
just the worst [Eb] at board games.
Debates about the rules like legislators at a court case.
Tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel.
Once [Bb] I even caught [Eb] her cheating while she kept the score in Scrabble.
She's a fucking wreck of checkers.
Plays Monopoly sloppily.
Always bringing up disputes in games of [Eb] trivia pursued.
Sucks at battleship and risk.
She fights [Eb] better hand to hand.
And don't even get me [Ab] started about how [Bb] trash she is at [Eb] Candyland.
Like you can't be bad at [Bb] that game, yet [Eb] you lose all the time.
It doesn't make any sense.
[Ab] But I'm no [Eb] Adonis either.
Fashion sensibismal.
I've [Bb] got two [Eb] Nirvana t-shirts that I wear to formal outings and I've never owned [Bb] a card again.
Catch me buying [Eb] cargo pants at Target for an embargo.
Been drinking milk straight out the carton.
Use my [Ab] hands to scoop out [Eb] margarine.
Breakfast table etiquette makes [Eb] up our morning arguments.
And I'm not a glass half [Eb] full kind of guy.
Shipwrecked flags [Ab] half-masked [Bb] hulk kind of guy.
[Eb] I never was an optimist.
Not too good at compromise.
[Bb] The problem is my ego's far [Eb] too fragile to apologize.
But she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pecks too.
It's always nice to have somebody close who [Bb] double checks you.
[Eb] And honestly, we wouldn't [Eb] be ourselves if we were different.
[Bb] Yeah, she's clumsy [Eb] and I'm stupid.
Those are things that we can live with.
Being perfect's unrealistic.
[Ab] Either way, I like [Eb] our flaws.
The way I crack my [Ab] knuckles often.
The [Bb] obnoxious way [Eb] she yawns.
The way I stutter when I flirt because I'm not very good with courtship.
[Bb] The way she's got [Eb] to pee the first 10 minutes of her road trip.
How when she cuts her pancakes, it's [Ab] in slices, not [Eb] in squares.
The way my daily coffee intake is a crisis.
I'm aware.
The way I talk in crowded.
[Abm]
[Eb] [Ab] [Eb] I think I'm in love, but I've been feeling [Eb] otherwise.
These flutters in my stomach aren't butterflies, but [Bb] cutting knives and [Eb] not the butter kind.
And if you listen close when she begins to [Bb] speak, you'll hear a couple hundred [Eb] sighs
in the collective shut of eyes.
Letters linger on her lips [Ab] like lullabies.
[Eb] I think I've drowned a couple times inside her opal colored eyes.
She could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives.
[Abm] A perfect [Eb] 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs.
Cats are wearing loose pajamas on a Sunday, and she'd overshadow any supermodel on a runway.
When she wakes up in the morning, she smells like vanilla essence [Ab] and the [Eb] bittersweet recollections
of your adolescence.
Summer camp and [Ab] piano lessons and presents you got [Eb] on birthdays.
Orange creamsicles [Ab] and double plays [Bb] on first [Eb] base.
And walk past her in the halls, and if your shoulders feel the [Bb] slightest brush, you might
melt to [Eb] liquid gold.
The lightest kind of Midas touch-ups.
Seeing the way she drinks [Ab] espresso during [Eb] classes and reshapes a paper [Ab] cup into an [Eb] emerald
cup of childish sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin [Eb] origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances
[Ab] to me through her [Bb] Giorgio Armani [Eb] frames.
[Eb] She's nearly perfect [Bb] in [Eb] almost every way.
But she's [Ab] got shit taste [Eb] in movies.
Ask her for [Ab] her favorite [Bb] titles, and she always [Eb] likes to say she's down to go see anything
by Shyamalan [Bb] or Michael Bay.
And also, she's [Eb] a psycho in the kitchen.
It's a travesty.
What kind of fucking monster cooks their [Ab] pasta in a [Eb] microwave?
And she does this thing where she [Eb] corrects your grammar if it's wrong and clicks her
tongue and wakes and shoots a [Eb] playful finger gun as if she's won some sort of contest.
Empress Victor of a conquest.
Mrs.
Armchair shrink.
Let me fix you with a [Fm] comment.
Princess [Eb] Kiki when you're down.
Warshipper to a godhead.
It seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn't chime in quick with unsolicited
advice and unapologetic tyrant of passive-aggressive rivalry.
[Bb] Ask her a [Eb] question and catch a handful of sass and irony and trust me, [Ab] really, she is
just the worst [Eb] at board games.
Debates about the rules like legislators at a court case.
Tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel.
Once [Bb] I even caught [Eb] her cheating while she kept the score in Scrabble.
She's a fucking wreck of checkers.
Plays Monopoly sloppily.
Always bringing up disputes in games of [Eb] trivia pursued.
Sucks at battleship and risk.
She fights [Eb] better hand to hand.
And don't even get me [Ab] started about how [Bb] trash she is at [Eb] Candyland.
Like you can't be bad at [Bb] that game, yet [Eb] you lose all the time.
It doesn't make any sense.
[Ab] But I'm no [Eb] Adonis either.
Fashion sensibismal.
I've [Bb] got two [Eb] Nirvana t-shirts that I wear to formal outings and I've never owned [Bb] a card again.
Catch me buying [Eb] cargo pants at Target for an embargo.
Been drinking milk straight out the carton.
Use my [Ab] hands to scoop out [Eb] margarine.
Breakfast table etiquette makes [Eb] up our morning arguments.
And I'm not a glass half [Eb] full kind of guy.
Shipwrecked flags [Ab] half-masked [Bb] hulk kind of guy.
[Eb] I never was an optimist.
Not too good at compromise.
[Bb] The problem is my ego's far [Eb] too fragile to apologize.
But she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pecks too.
It's always nice to have somebody close who [Bb] double checks you.
[Eb] And honestly, we wouldn't [Eb] be ourselves if we were different.
[Bb] Yeah, she's clumsy [Eb] and I'm stupid.
Those are things that we can live with.
Being perfect's unrealistic.
[Ab] Either way, I like [Eb] our flaws.
The way I crack my [Ab] knuckles often.
The [Bb] obnoxious way [Eb] she yawns.
The way I stutter when I flirt because I'm not very good with courtship.
[Bb] The way she's got [Eb] to pee the first 10 minutes of her road trip.
How when she cuts her pancakes, it's [Ab] in slices, not [Eb] in squares.
The way my daily coffee intake is a crisis.
I'm aware.
The way I talk in crowded.
[Abm]
Key:
Eb
Ab
Bb
Abm
Fm
Eb
Ab
Bb
[Eb] _ _ [Ab] _ [Eb] _ _ [Ab] _ [Bb] _ [Eb] _
_ _ [Eb] _ _ _ [Ab] _ [Eb] I think I'm in love, but I've been feeling [Eb] otherwise.
These flutters in my stomach aren't butterflies, but [Bb] cutting knives and [Eb] not the butter kind.
And if you listen close when she begins to [Bb] speak, you'll hear a couple hundred [Eb] sighs
in the collective shut of eyes.
Letters linger on her lips [Ab] like lullabies.
[Eb] I think I've drowned a couple times inside her opal colored eyes.
She could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives.
[Abm] A perfect [Eb] 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs.
Cats are wearing loose pajamas on a Sunday, and she'd overshadow any supermodel on a runway.
When she wakes up in the morning, she smells like vanilla essence [Ab] and the [Eb] bittersweet recollections
of your adolescence.
Summer camp and [Ab] piano lessons and presents you got [Eb] on birthdays.
Orange creamsicles [Ab] and double plays [Bb] on first [Eb] base.
And walk past her in the halls, and if your shoulders feel the [Bb] slightest brush, you might
melt to [Eb] liquid gold.
The lightest kind of Midas touch-ups.
Seeing the way she drinks [Ab] espresso during [Eb] classes and reshapes a paper [Ab] cup into an [Eb] emerald
cup of childish sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin [Eb] origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances
[Ab] to me through her [Bb] Giorgio Armani [Eb] frames.
[Eb] She's nearly perfect [Bb] in [Eb] almost every way.
But she's [Ab] got shit taste [Eb] in movies.
Ask her for [Ab] her favorite [Bb] titles, and she always [Eb] likes to say she's down to go see anything
by Shyamalan [Bb] or Michael Bay.
And also, she's [Eb] a psycho in the kitchen.
It's a travesty.
What kind of fucking monster cooks their [Ab] pasta in a [Eb] microwave?
And she does this thing where she [Eb] corrects your grammar if it's wrong and clicks her
tongue and wakes and shoots a [Eb] playful finger gun as if she's won some sort of contest.
Empress Victor of a conquest.
Mrs.
Armchair shrink.
Let me fix you with a [Fm] comment.
Princess [Eb] Kiki when you're down.
Warshipper to a godhead.
It seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn't chime in quick with unsolicited
advice and unapologetic tyrant of passive-aggressive rivalry.
[Bb] Ask her a [Eb] question and catch a handful of sass and irony and trust me, [Ab] really, she is
just the worst [Eb] at board games.
Debates about the rules like legislators at a court case.
Tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel.
Once [Bb] I even caught [Eb] her cheating while she kept the score in Scrabble.
She's a fucking wreck of checkers.
Plays Monopoly sloppily.
Always bringing up disputes in games of [Eb] trivia pursued.
Sucks at battleship and risk.
She fights [Eb] better hand to hand.
And don't even get me [Ab] started about how [Bb] trash she is at [Eb] Candyland.
Like you can't be bad at [Bb] that game, yet [Eb] you lose all the time.
It doesn't make any sense.
[Ab] But I'm no [Eb] Adonis either.
Fashion sensibismal.
I've [Bb] got two [Eb] Nirvana t-shirts that I wear to formal outings and I've never owned [Bb] a card again.
Catch me buying [Eb] cargo pants at Target for an embargo.
Been drinking milk straight out the carton.
Use my [Ab] hands to scoop out [Eb] margarine.
Breakfast table etiquette makes [Eb] up our morning arguments.
And I'm not a glass half [Eb] full kind of guy.
Shipwrecked flags [Ab] half-masked [Bb] hulk kind of guy.
[Eb] I never was an optimist.
Not too good at compromise.
[Bb] The problem is my ego's far [Eb] too fragile to apologize.
But she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pecks too.
It's always nice to have somebody close who [Bb] double checks you.
[Eb] And honestly, we wouldn't [Eb] be ourselves if we were different.
[Bb] Yeah, she's clumsy [Eb] and I'm stupid.
Those are things that we can live with.
Being perfect's unrealistic.
[Ab] Either way, I like [Eb] our flaws.
The way I crack my [Ab] knuckles often.
The [Bb] obnoxious way [Eb] she yawns.
The way I stutter when I flirt because I'm not very good with courtship.
[Bb] The way she's got [Eb] to pee the first 10 minutes of her road trip.
How when she cuts her pancakes, it's [Ab] in slices, not [Eb] in squares.
The way my daily coffee intake is a crisis.
I'm aware.
The way I talk in crowded.
_ _ [Abm] _ _ _ _ _ _
_ _ [Eb] _ _ _ [Ab] _ [Eb] I think I'm in love, but I've been feeling [Eb] otherwise.
These flutters in my stomach aren't butterflies, but [Bb] cutting knives and [Eb] not the butter kind.
And if you listen close when she begins to [Bb] speak, you'll hear a couple hundred [Eb] sighs
in the collective shut of eyes.
Letters linger on her lips [Ab] like lullabies.
[Eb] I think I've drowned a couple times inside her opal colored eyes.
She could do something as simple as sit down with the grace of Olympic dives.
[Abm] A perfect [Eb] 10 photo shutter finish on her cocoa butter thighs.
Cats are wearing loose pajamas on a Sunday, and she'd overshadow any supermodel on a runway.
When she wakes up in the morning, she smells like vanilla essence [Ab] and the [Eb] bittersweet recollections
of your adolescence.
Summer camp and [Ab] piano lessons and presents you got [Eb] on birthdays.
Orange creamsicles [Ab] and double plays [Bb] on first [Eb] base.
And walk past her in the halls, and if your shoulders feel the [Bb] slightest brush, you might
melt to [Eb] liquid gold.
The lightest kind of Midas touch-ups.
Seeing the way she drinks [Ab] espresso during [Eb] classes and reshapes a paper [Ab] cup into an [Eb] emerald
cup of childish sugar packets pouring crystals, napkin [Eb] origami cranes, gunning gorgeous glances
[Ab] to me through her [Bb] Giorgio Armani [Eb] frames.
[Eb] She's nearly perfect [Bb] in [Eb] almost every way.
But she's [Ab] got shit taste [Eb] in movies.
Ask her for [Ab] her favorite [Bb] titles, and she always [Eb] likes to say she's down to go see anything
by Shyamalan [Bb] or Michael Bay.
And also, she's [Eb] a psycho in the kitchen.
It's a travesty.
What kind of fucking monster cooks their [Ab] pasta in a [Eb] microwave?
And she does this thing where she [Eb] corrects your grammar if it's wrong and clicks her
tongue and wakes and shoots a [Eb] playful finger gun as if she's won some sort of contest.
Empress Victor of a conquest.
Mrs.
Armchair shrink.
Let me fix you with a [Fm] comment.
Princess [Eb] Kiki when you're down.
Warshipper to a godhead.
It seldom happens that she listens to my voice and doesn't chime in quick with unsolicited
advice and unapologetic tyrant of passive-aggressive rivalry.
[Bb] Ask her a [Eb] question and catch a handful of sass and irony and trust me, [Ab] really, she is
just the worst [Eb] at board games.
Debates about the rules like legislators at a court case.
Tampers with the scales of justice, wielding pencils as her gavel.
Once [Bb] I even caught [Eb] her cheating while she kept the score in Scrabble.
She's a fucking wreck of checkers.
Plays Monopoly sloppily.
Always bringing up disputes in games of [Eb] trivia pursued.
Sucks at battleship and risk.
She fights [Eb] better hand to hand.
And don't even get me [Ab] started about how [Bb] trash she is at [Eb] Candyland.
Like you can't be bad at [Bb] that game, yet [Eb] you lose all the time.
It doesn't make any sense.
[Ab] But I'm no [Eb] Adonis either.
Fashion sensibismal.
I've [Bb] got two [Eb] Nirvana t-shirts that I wear to formal outings and I've never owned [Bb] a card again.
Catch me buying [Eb] cargo pants at Target for an embargo.
Been drinking milk straight out the carton.
Use my [Ab] hands to scoop out [Eb] margarine.
Breakfast table etiquette makes [Eb] up our morning arguments.
And I'm not a glass half [Eb] full kind of guy.
Shipwrecked flags [Ab] half-masked [Bb] hulk kind of guy.
[Eb] I never was an optimist.
Not too good at compromise.
[Bb] The problem is my ego's far [Eb] too fragile to apologize.
But she always calls me out and takes me down a couple pecks too.
It's always nice to have somebody close who [Bb] double checks you.
[Eb] And honestly, we wouldn't [Eb] be ourselves if we were different.
[Bb] Yeah, she's clumsy [Eb] and I'm stupid.
Those are things that we can live with.
Being perfect's unrealistic.
[Ab] Either way, I like [Eb] our flaws.
The way I crack my [Ab] knuckles often.
The [Bb] obnoxious way [Eb] she yawns.
The way I stutter when I flirt because I'm not very good with courtship.
[Bb] The way she's got [Eb] to pee the first 10 minutes of her road trip.
How when she cuts her pancakes, it's [Ab] in slices, not [Eb] in squares.
The way my daily coffee intake is a crisis.
I'm aware.
The way I talk in crowded.
_ _ [Abm] _ _ _ _ _ _