D Dm
At the center where they go on weekdays
D Dm D
It takes hours just to slake that thirst
D Dm
Heavy heels and a daunting pulse rate
D Dm Bm
Bad idea for your blistered toes
G
To my wheel, well youre getting close
D
So say adios
A
The conjecturers reject the rose
G
Don't stay high high-igh-igh-igh
D
On abuse
Em F#m G F#m
Sometimes it feels like the worlds's stuffed with feathers
Em F#m G A
Table-bottom gum just holding it together
Em D A
A cold son, i am
Em D A
A cold son, i am
D Dm
You can chase it but it wont come easy
D Dm D
It's a revery so silver-quick
D Dm
It gets solid when you're old and hazy
D Dm Bm
Takes no leverage to make me click
G
To my wheel, well youre getting close
D
The tension grows
A
Defy conjecture and accept the rose
G
Don't stay high high-igh-igh-igh
D
On abuse
Em F#m G F#m
Who was it that said the world is my oyster?
Em F#m G A
I feel like a nympho stuck in a cloister!
Em D A
Cold son, i am
Em D A
A cold son, i am
Em
Face-plant stumble ahead
D A
Victim of your rival pretensions know me
Em
Face-plant stumble ahead
D A
Rival to the bitter pretensions know me
Em D A
Cold son, i am
Em D A
A cold son, i am
Outro: Dm D7 (4x)