Key: G# minor
Verse 1
Em
D
I threw a dart with a diary of my past
from the rays of the sun
Bbm
Em
of a gun in my heart and I felt
the sweat run through my hair
peacock
I'm from a liquor store,
all away.
D
Em
C
I wanna be a drunk,
D
C
The price of style is always too much.
I feel so thin
and my skin would be a parachute
D
C
Or , well, one or two would
die, break a leg,
get an arm stuck in a tree,
D
C
or just miss.
C
D
I avoid all the laws
I live in a caravan with no wheels
but freshly painted elevators,
up blues dress
E
C
D
fueled and fooled by expens
ive cheap red wine
for an overpriced
D
C
But now I'm in apartment number 520
as my American wife writes it.
I drink vodka, crown apple and orange,
there's an orchestra
playing in my heart,
hmm, but there's a blues band in my head,
and all the drinks are free to them.
but my name's not on the guest list
and I'm banned anyway.
So I read Mr. Bukowski,
D
C
whose thoughts and body are older than mine,
yeah, so,
D
C
but it makes me feel fine anyway.
C
D
from my silver Luger lighter,
C
D
and I use fuel as an ashtray.
Set my drink, plan my next line,
scare the maids till the end of time.
Today I'll shoot thoughts
C
C
Maybe I'm putting my body
into the pit of lust
and just taste the lipstick
on borrowed cigarettes.
I can still remember
the reflection of her body.
s.
I'll love this girl with a passion for insanity,
grain and crime.
I'll love this girl
way past the end of our time.
The end, fin, there is no more.
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TunerE A D G B E
ChordsEm D C Bbm C#m...
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