A                                              E
Sure was a hell of a mistake I made
But I sure am glad that I made it
No way for a grown man to behave
More the act of a teen opportunist
G#m            A                      B
I stand accused of losing my head

E               B                       A
We sit so high on the city walls
Our tears wash clean the cobblestones
It's not so much that the thrill is gone
B                 C#m              D
Just a cleaner, sweeter, brighter thrill has come 
A
along

I can sense trouble just around the bend
And it's all benn my kind of making
I can't carry on with all this pretence
When it's clear that my love has been fading
I stand accused of the things I said
E              B                     A
We sit so high on the city walls
Our tears wash clean the cobblestones
It's not so much that the thrill is gone
B                  C#m             D
Just a cleaner, sweeter, brighter thrill has come 
A
Along