Cifras
Stained Glass Ceilings

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