So tired of the Ebm7straight line
and Gbeverywhere you turn, There's
Dbvultures and Bbm7thieves at your
Abback. The storm keeps onEbm7
twisting, you keep on Gbbuilding
the lies That youDb make up for
Bbm7all that you Ablack. It don't
make noEbm7 difference, Gbescape
one last time, It's DbeasierBbm7
to Abbelieve. In this sweet
Ebm7madness, oh, this Gbglorious
sadness, That Dbbrings me Bbm7to my Abknees.