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Here comes the weekend.

Roxette, Tourism.

Trans. by Graham (pereb100@hio.tem.nhl.nl)


Verse 1:
           G
    Every shape, of every word you say,
           D                        C
    that breaks the silence of an ordinary day.
           G
    Every look, that seems to mistify,
           D                         C
    every single smile that sends me to the sky.
              Em
    Makes me wanna run, makes me wanna hide
                       C                  (Em)
    'cause you're the only one, makes me come alive.
                   Em
    It's getting closer now and darker by the hour.
        C            D
    It only goes to show, that


Chorus a:
              G                     Em
    Here it comes, here comes the weekend.
                       C
    And I'm on my own again,
                            Am     D7
    with a saturday in the rain (yeah yeah)
              G                     Em
    Here is comes, here comes the weekend.
                                    C   D7
    The fine line from pleasure to pain.
                 G  Em         C Am         Em
    Is making me cry, when will I see you again.


Verse 2:
           G
    Every breath, every vision you make,
           D                        C
    every chance of love, you love to take.
           G
    Every move, that seems to alter my world,
           D                         C
    every dream I've had about this boy and this girl.
              Em
    Oh it makes me wanna run, makes me wanna hide
                       C                  Em
    'cause you're the only one, who makes my love alive.
                   Em
    Time is running fast into a new goodbye.
        C            D
    It only goes to show, that

Chorus b:
              G                     Em
    Here is comes, here comes the weekend.
                                   C
    Another walk down that lonely lane.
                                  Am     D7
    Another sunday that feels the same. (Hehe)
              G                     Em
    Here is comes, here comes the weekend.
                                    C   D7
    The fine line from pleasure to pain.
                 G  Em         C Am         G
    Is making me cry, when will I see you again.

(repeat chorus a)

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