Janine by Tim Pettenkofer
It [e]was just a [a]girl
But there’s [a]no doubt to fa[a]il
When you wa[D]nt her to da[D]nce
You rec[a]eive no more cha[a]nce
She [G]was like the ra[G]in in my mi[a]nd [a]
Jan[e]ine
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Did you really thought
She was yours, it’s your fault
She’ll ever be lonely
Won’t be someone’s honey
She was a never-muted engine
Janine
But there, one day
It was April or May
I founded her dead
She was murdered in bed
And this day I knew she was mine
Janine
