Chords
Wind Up

 D                                   Em                                         D                                         F# 
When I was young and they packed me off to school
                                   G                                 D                                     A2   A 
and they taught me how not to play the game,
 D                     Em                                 D                                   F# 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
       G                                         D                                 A2   A 
or if they said that I was just a fool.
 D                                                               Em 
So I left there in the morning
                             D                                                                               F# 
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
                           G                                   D                                         A2   A 
their half-assed smiles, and the book of rules.
 D                                                                       Em 
So I asked this God a question
                         D                         F# 
and by way of firm reply,
                             G                                                             D                                                         A2   A 
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
       G                                                   D                                       A2   A 
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
                                         D                                                     F# 
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
                   G                                             D                                                     A2   A 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
                                           G                   A                                           D                                             Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
                             G                                       A                                               Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
 Bm 
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
                   G                                             D                               F# 
when that was just an accident of Birth.
 Bm 
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
                   G                                             D                               F# 
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
 G                                                                           A                                       D                                 Bm 
in Your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me
                       G                                               A                                       Bm 
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear
 Bm 
When I was young   they packed me off to school
                         G                                 D                                         F# 
and   taught me how not to play the game,
 Bm 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
         G                                     D                                 F# 
or if they said that I was just a fool.
                                         G                     A                                           D                                             Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
                           G                                                     A                                 Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
 G                                                                           A                                     D                                     Bm 
in Your pomp and all your glory, you're a poorer man than me
                         G                                         A                                       Bm 
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear
 D                                   Em                                         D                                         F# 
When I was young and they packed me off to school
                                   G                                 D                                     A2   A 
and they taught me how not to play the game,
 D                   Em                             D                                             F# 
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
       G                                         D                                 A2   A 
or if they said that I was just a fool.
     G                                                       D                                         A2   A 
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
                                           G                   A                                           D                                               Bm 
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
                             G                                         A                                             Bm 
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
                                         D                                                             F# 
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
                   G                                             D                                                   A2   A 
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.