Biography:
Grace Petrie (born 1987) is a British folk singer-songwriter and guitarist from Leicester, UK. She was hailed in The Guardian as “a powerful new songwriting voice” in 2011.
Petrie writes indie folk rock songs (a couple with an acoustic punk twist), plays the guitar and sings with a voice that has been described by listeners as similar to Laura Marling, Kate Nash. From the humble beginnings of small gigs in her hometown in 2006 and a home-recorded debut album
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Other songs:
- A Hell Of A Good Time Song For Richard Feynman
- Aeroplanes And Stars
- Black Tie
- Departures
- Farewell To Welfare
- God Save The Hungry
- I Do Not Have The Power To Cause A Flood
- Iago
- If Theres A Fire In Your Heart
- Inspector Morse
- Londons Burning
- Nobody Knows That Im A Fraud
- Northbound
- Overheard
- Pride
- Tell Me A Story
- The Heartbreak Handbook
- The Topshop Song
- They Shall Not Pass
- This House
- Whatevers Left
- Why Bob Dylan Sang
Four years of hard work!This month of May we celebrated four years on the air. We continue working on the dissemination of this wonderful instrument, thank you for participating in our story!
Chords and Lyrics - “This House”, by Grace Petrie
Capo 4th Fret
C G D
C G D
C G D
This house is like a cemetery
C G D
Of all the things he built for me
C G D
The things he left behind, the labours of his time
C G D
The products of his mind, oh I keep them all in line,
C G D
the things he left behind
C G D
C G D
This house is like a prison cell
C G D
Twenty years straight down the well
C G D
And all I’ve got is time, on time on time on time
C G D
Sat here with an idle mind, and the questions that it finds
C G D
About the ways that he was mine
C G D
C G D
And it’s not shame,
C G D
It’s just something I can’t name
C G D
And it’s not love
C G D
Oh, this thing I’m dying of
C G D Em
It’s his roses in the garden, it’s his pictures on the wall
C G D (hold)
If this house was made for talking, it would say
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
C G D
This house is like a mockery
C G D
Empty chairs and crockery
C G D
And it’s handsomer than most, nobody gets close
C G D
Empty glasses, none to toast, well he was born to host
C G D
But all I entertain is ghosts
C G D
C G D
This house is like his legacy
C G D
All the things he meant to me
C G D
And I try to find a way, to keep the thought at bay
C G D
That I don’t know what I’d say, oh, if we’d had one more day
C G D
Hell alone knows what I’d say
C G D
C G D
And it’s not shame,
C G D
It’s just something I can’t name
C G D
And it’s not love
C G D
Oh, this thing I’m dying of
C G D Em
It’s his roses in the garden, it’s his pictures on the wall
C G D
If this house was made for talking, it would say
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
This house is like a cemetery
C G D
Of all the things he built for me
C G D
The products of his mind, the labours of his time
C G D
oh I keep them all in line,
C G D
All the things he left behind
C G D
G
Capo 4th Fret
C G D
C G D
C G D
This house is like a cemetery
C G D
Of all the things he built for me
C G D
The things he left behind, the labours of his time
C G D
The products of his mind, oh I keep them all in line,
C G D
the things he left behind
C G D
C G D
This house is like a prison cell
C G D
Twenty years straight down the well
C G D
And all I’ve got is time, on time on time on time
C G D
Sat here with an idle mind, and the questions that it finds
C G D
About the ways that he was mine
C G D
C G D
And it’s not shame,
C G D
It’s just something I can’t name
C G D
And it’s not love
C G D
Oh, this thing I’m dying of
C G D Em
It’s his roses in the garden, it’s his pictures on the wall
C G D (hold)
If this house was made for talking, it would say
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
C G D
This house is like a mockery
C G D
Empty chairs and crockery
C G D
And it’s handsomer than most, nobody gets close
C G D
Empty glasses, none to toast, well he was born to host
C G D
But all I entertain is ghosts
C G D
C G D
This house is like his legacy
C G D
All the things he meant to me
C G D
And I try to find a way, to keep the thought at bay
C G D
That I don’t know what I’d say, oh, if we’d had one more day
C G D
Hell alone knows what I’d say
C G D
C G D
And it’s not shame,
C G D
It’s just something I can’t name
C G D
And it’s not love
C G D
Oh, this thing I’m dying of
C G D Em
It’s his roses in the garden, it’s his pictures on the wall
C G D
If this house was made for talking, it would say
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
It would say nothing at all
C G D
C G D
This house is like a cemetery
C G D
Of all the things he built for me
C G D
The products of his mind, the labours of his time
C G D
oh I keep them all in line,
C G D
All the things he left behind
C G D
G
Grace Stailey
Grace Tohm
Grace Uth
Grace Van der Wa (...)
Grace Vanderwall