Hope Is A Dangerous Thing For A Woman Like Me To Have - But I Have It Lana Del Rey
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I was
May
But
No,
I've been
Don't
'Cause
I had
Ex
He
I've been
She
Except
There's a
A
A
I've been
They
But
But
Yeah,
a
reading Slim Aarons and G
I got to thinking that D
I thoughtMay
a
be I'd get less stressed G
if I was tested less D
like all of these debutantesa
Smiling for miles in pink G
dresses and high heels on D
white yachtsBut
a
I'm not,G
baby D
I'm notNo,
a
I'm notG
that, D
I'm notI've been
C
tearing around in my D
fucking nightgown, twenty-e
four seven, Sylvia C
PlathC
Writing in blood on the D
walls 'cause the ink in my e
pen don't work in my noteC
padDon't
C
ask if I'm happy, you D
know that I'm not, but at G
best I can D/F#
say I'm not C
sad'Cause
C
hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to haveC
Hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to havea
x2 G
D
I had
a
fifteen-year dances, church G
basement romances, yeah D
I've crieda
Spilling my guts with the G
Bowery Bums is the D
only love I've ever knownEx
a
cept for the stage which I G
also call home when D
I'm nota
Servin' up God in a G
burnt coffee pot for the D
triadHe
a
llo, it's the most famous G
woman you know on the D
iPada
Calling from beyond the G
grave, I just wanna say,D
"Hi, Dad"I've been
C
tearing up town in my D
fucking white gown like a e
goddamn near socioC
pathC
Shaking my ass is the D
only thing that's got this e
black narcissist off my C
backShe
C
couldn't care less and I D
never cared more so there's G
no more to D/F#
say about C
thatExcept
C
hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to haveC
Hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman with D/F#
my pastThere's a
a
new revolution, a G
loud evolution that D
I sawa
Born of confusion and G
quiet collusion of D
which mostly I've knownA
a
modern day woman with a G
weak constitution 'cause D
I've gota
Monsters still under my G
bed that I could never D
fight offA
a
gatekeeper carelessly G
dropping the keys on my D
nights offI've been
C
tearing around in my D
fucking nightgown, twenty-e
four seven, Sylvia C
PlathC
Writing in blood on your D
walls 'cause the ink in my e
pen don't look good in my C
padThey
C
write that I'm happy, they D
know that I'm not but at G
best, you can D/F#
see I'm not C
sadBut
C
hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to haveC
Hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to haveC
Hope is a dangerous G
thing for a woman like D/F#
me to haveBut
C
I haveG
it, yeah D/F#
I have itYeah,
C
I haveG
it, D/F#
I have C
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