Key: B minor
Verse 1
is windowless.
A#
Bm
Once there was a window
– three, in fact –
A#aug
Bm
bottles, just in case .
A#
Bm
With the trapdoor in the ceiling
bolts and chains checked,
ah could render the panting interior
the guillotines and steak knives of leaked
light – sun- silver lances,
like ah was the bikini- clad assistant
in some
G
A#
magician's trick gone horribly wrong.
Bm
Yes! Sometimes ah would watch steely sunlight,
ragged,
serrated, saw me in half.
Ah spent an afternoon plugging the major leaks
with plaster but the
minor clefts, pocks and crannies,
Bm
the countless chinks in mah castellated armour,
ah left unhindered.
Perforations. Air holes hammered in the lid of mah
coop. Of mah coffin.
If the beasts were up to it
with the air putrid, septic,
heady and receptive,
a lot of thought waves got moved around.
Rat chat, crackling cat shriek, snake
hissance and lizard fizz,
Bm
G
Bm
hare air, bug thrum –
Bm
A#
Bm
O but the drooling dog thoughts – dull,
belligerent, doped,
full of mean transmission – blood, meat,
Bm
G
Lame, cock- eyed hill- bitches, agitated in
turning mean,
Bm
G
hump in the ordure and straw,
D
G
gnash and grabble in their squatting capsules
When their murgeoning got out of hand,
ah would give them a goofball.
G
Bm
A calmative. OK – a comative.
One part water. One part White Jesus.
Half to one powdered sedative.
Never failed.
G
Bm
A bowl or two of that – they lapped
it up – and they'd be goo- gooing
G
Bm
All the mad air slaked.
The feral static,
G
Bm
the hate waves abated.
There were no in- between moods.
No slippers brought to the bedside.
No hobble around the block.
Either those brutes were
in a state of high coma
or they were coming at your face.
to be.
G
Bm
It's the way God had it organized.
O they will get their chance
to make good.
Like me. They will have
ah think, and very soon.
Ah am the Truth. Ah am the Light.
Every dog has its day.
Verse 2
Bm
now.
Bm
G
Bm
You're too late, Mister Hay- Rake,
Mister Spade.
Ah said, hey boss, take up that cross
and put on your walking shoes.
Today belongs to me! Not thee!
D
Bm
Into the ranks of the elite ah climb,
saying,
day! The last day is mine!'
There are plenny others, brothers.
Bm
G
Take your pick. Take your hoe.
Leave this day alone. Sift
not a pretty sight.
The fear is here. The fright. Here is the night.
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TunerE A D G B E
ChordsBm A# A#aug D C...
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