Sinister: Pocketbook Angel chords

[Dazza]

First draftish - the "write it all down" sections may well be wrong.

Pocketbook Angel

A                    B
Hey, I'm down on the city lane
             D
I guess I am broke again
          A
Summer is such a pain

Yeah, I'm down on the city floor
I guess I am pretty bored
Least I am not alone

Cause here she comes again
Oh I saw her just yesterday
She looked at me in a certain way
Cause she's a pocketbook angel

And I know she fakes the limp
Cause I saw her in Littlewoods
Well she was getting some frozen food
She just wants to be goofy

Bm
  I've seen her write it all down
                           D
I've seen her write it all down

I've seen her write it all down
                           A
I've seen her write it all down

                 C#m                G
Cause of all the things she sees
                 Bm
Cause of all the things she sees
           F  G  A
Things she sees

Yeah, she's got it all on computer disk
Cause she's a marketing analyst
I sometimes wonder what she's got on me

Oh sure, I had a job in an office one
I never talked to anyone
All I ever do is st around

She told me over tea
She's not working for another boss
She got fired but it was their loss
She's a pocket book angel

And now all the kids have got pocketbooks
I guess it's the way it looks
Their cosmopolitan diaries

Bm
  I've seen her write it all down
                           D
I've seen her write it all down

I've seen her write it all down
                       A                            
I've seen her write it all 

I've seen her write it all down

I've seen her write it all down
                           G
I've seen her write it all down
                         Bm
I've seen her write it all 

I've seen her write it all down

I've seen her write it all down
                           A
I've seen her write it all down

I've seen her write it all down

Cause of all the things she does
Cause of all the things she sees
Things she sees

cheers
Dazza

************
Tick, tick, tick, the machine continued. Time was 
passing. The audience was wandering, dispersing. Only the 
tick tick of the gramophone held them together.
************
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