Standard (EADGBE)

As far as stories go, mine is the best one that I know,

Though it’s the only one I really know – so, well, you know

And yet as time goes on and on, slips left or right side up or down

I fear I feel even my own ink quickly draining

Out with it then! Before my pen is sucked in old age white and thin

I scrawl for sins and salva tions, reflections fading

And though it’s so hard to detail it is quite simple to sum it:

I went to bed brass and I woke up a trumpet.

[hold, still] And I’m playing A God now, tumbling dice

I’m thinking D once, not A twice

I’m thinking D big, not A nice, nece E ssarily.

I’ve got a D plan, but it’s my A own.

I’m sick of D death and flesh and A bone.

I’m thinking D all you people, A all of you, are just E scaring me.

So here I D go, I boot the F#m road,

I smash the D gravel under F#m toe

I turn the D moon around and F#m show the sun a E thing or two

I’m dodging D God, I’m made to E move,

A hungry D hound dog’s twitching A tooth,

I’m rear D ranging battle A maps they drew at E Waterloo!

I am no D Father’s fool

Claim E no vessel nor tool

At best mu D tiny’s crew

Itself a E jab at Zeus

What was I F#m telling you?...

What was I D telling you?...

What was I E telling you?...

[instrumental on E drone?]

…Ah, yes! So A waking as a yawp, my bonnet Em bee’d, shook soda D popped,

blinking a F#m round about the kingdom in whose E reign I’d been dropped off

I coughed and D sputtered to a start, turned twice the F#m crank nailed to my heart

I felt I E feared birds’ dream of clouds go sickly D bleeding

Shakedustoff, E wings! These prisoners’ rings, encrusted D diamond death of E things

Fly, sing, pro F#m mote notes towards the E throats of landlords D deeding…Cause:

As its E whipping accomplicewind stretchedgrowing D skin strengthened and stiffened,

I saw the Bm sun is not chicken, it’s in D different

so I’m pitting A God against these eyes…

I’m thinking D heaven’s not so A high

And mighty, D thinking flight, not A fight, but are you E feeling me?

All these de D sires fester un A told.

mad master’s D piece we’d pluck to A mold

I’m thinking D this is me, and A that is me, but what is E really me?

So sound the D bells, and fig the F#m trees,

My breath is D bigger than the F#m breeze

I wrap the D wind into a F#m seed and sow it E deep in, too

I’m mocking God a mimic king,

I care no D more for her or A him

Tecumseh, D time to wind that A train back to Tip E pecanoe!

Head beaten D red and blue

Come killing E two by two

They put the D fear in you

There’s nothing E left to prove

They tried to F#m take our birth

If lost, re E turn to earth.

If lost, re D turn to earth.

If lost, re(A, let ring)turn-t’thee-earth.

[instrumental fade out on A riff?]