Tom: F
Introdução:
E
Like a burning monk
C#m
You're my light flare out in the dark
G#m
You're my constant call to arms
Took the blindfold off
A E
They'd left chalk outlines where the future was
C#m
It's a goddamn war of attrition
G#m
It's a death by a thousand cuts
A
And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven
They burned the bridge when they got across
E
They're gathering anchors
B
They're gathering rope
A
You push into heaven all alone
E
They're grabbing your ankles
B
They won't let you go
A
The ebb and the distant flow
B
They're cutting your wings off
A
Built you ceilings out of stained glass
E C#m
Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee
G#m
The wound will close eventually
A E
You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be
C#m
Held your funeral on a Tuesday
G#m
Holy waters, November cold
A
The kid who pulled the trigger
Knew tomorrow couldn't promise him hope
E B
All these bastards are gathering rope
A
You push into heaven all alone
E
They're grabbing your ankles
B
They won't let you go
A
The ebb and the distant flow
B
They're cutting your wings off
A
Built your ceilings out of stained glass
B
They were cutting your wings off
A
I was staring at my idle hands
C#m
Maybe I could've done something
A
Maybe I could've made a difference
B A B A)
C#m A
John Wayne with a God complex Tells me to buy a gun
E
Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems
Like it's an arms race
C#m
Like death don't mean nothing
A
To know the heavy price of living poor
E
Walled in by red lines, backed into a corner
Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America
C#m A
If everyone's built the same then how come building's so fucking hard for you?
E
It's something we're all born into
C#m
Nothing's left up to gray
A
It's black or white and sometimes black and blue
E B
It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh
C#m
Now I know what's in a name
Not just my father
A
Three-fifths a man makes half of me
Why should I bother?
E B
Merchants of misery stacking the deck
Fuck your John Waynes
C#m
I have everything in front of me
A
But can't reach far enough
To touch those fever dreams
E
They call America
I am the ghetto's chosen one
B
The privileged bastard son
C#m
They're gathering anchors
B
They're gathering rope
A
You push into heaven all alone
E
They're gathering anchors
B
They're gathering rope
A
You push into heaven all alone
No, all alone
C#m