Cifras
And The Snakes Start To Sing

 Am 
I've lost the plot again
 C                                                                 G 
Tell your friends to sharpen their teeth
 Am                                                                                           C  G 
There's a few quid to be made...
 Am 
And my soul's a sorry state
 C                                                                                   G 
So come on down, you're empty lovers.
 Am                                                                                                       C  G 
Worms come out of the woodwork
 G 
And the snakes start to sing.
 Am 
Do you feel the chill,
 C                                                         G 
Clawing at the back of your neck?
 Am 
I start to spill.
 C                                                                                                     G 
Did you really think that you could fix me?
 Am                                                           C                   G 
They'll sell your bones for another roll.
 Am 
Well sharpen your teeth.
 C                                                                           G 
Tell yourself that it's just business.
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Worms come out of the woodwork.
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Leeches crawl from out of the dirt
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Rats come out of the holes they call home,
 Am                                                 C 
I fall apart.
                           G 
And the snakes start to sing.
 Am 
Don't say I'm better off dead,
 C                                                                                               G 
'Cause heaven's full and hell won't have me.
 Am                                                                                                                                             C   G 
Won't you make some room in your bed?
 Am 
Oh, well you could lock me up in your heart,
 C                                                                             G 
And throw away the key.
 Am                                                                 C                                                 G 
Won't you take me out of my head?
   G                                 Am 
I'm just a would've been, could've been,
                                                                   C                                                     G 
Should've been, never was and never ever will be.
 Am 
Well, sharpen your teeth.
 C                                                                   G 
Tell yourself that it's just business.
 Am 
Would've been, could've been,
                                                                 C                                                           G 
Should've been, never was, and never ever will be.
 Am                                                                                                                     C   G 
Worms come out of the woodwork,
 G 
And the snakes start to sing.
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Worms come out of the woodwork.
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Leeches crawl from out of the dirt
 Am                                                                                                             C   G 
Rats come out of the holes they call home,
 Am                                                 C 
I fall apart.
                           G 
And the snakes start to sing.
 Am 
If you can't soar with the eagles,
 C                                                                                   G 
Then don't fly with the flock.
 Am                                                                                   C         G 
Are you still getting high?
 Am 
Did you catch your own reflection,
 C                                                                                     G 
In the knife my mother held?
 Am                                                                                                 C       G 
Or the hell in my father's eyes?
 Am 
If you can't soar with the eagles,
 C                                                                                   G 
Then don't fly with the flock.
 Am                                                                       C   G 
Are you still getting by?
 Am 
Was I your knight in shining armour?
 C                                                               G 
The apple of your eye?
 Am                                                                   C  G 
Or just a step to climb?
 Am 
If you can't soar with the eagles,
 C                                                                                   G 
Then don't fly with the flock.
 Am                                                                                   C  G 
Are you still getting high?
 Am 
Did you catch your own reflection,
 C                                                                                     G 
In the knife my mother held?
 Am                                                                                                 C  G 
Or the hell in my father's eyes?
 Am 
If you can't soar with the eagles,
 C                                                                                   G 
Then don't fly with the flock.
 Am                                                                       C   G 
Are you still getting by?
 Am 
Was I your knight in shining armour?
 C                                                               G 
The apple of your eye?
 Am                                                                                   C                           G 
Or just a step, a fucking step to climb?