Tom: F minor
Verse 1
Am
F#dim
B
He's a
Em
born undertaker's mute.
F#dim
B
I can see him in his black silk suit.
Cdim
Following behind the
Em
with his fea tures fixed
in a suitable expression.
There'll be horses with tall black plumes
F#dim
B
to escort us to the family tombs.
Cdim
B
With moaners in all corners
Em
who've been taught to weep in tune.
B
Em
Then a coffin lined with satin,
Large enough to wear your hat in,
B
Em
We're just here to glamorize you
B
Em
for that endless sleep.
F#dim
Em
You might just as well look fetching
C#dim
C
B
when you're six feet deep.
Em
C
B
At the wake we'll drink a toddy to the body,
Em
beautiful.
F#dim
B
Em
C
That's your fu neral, not our funeral.
B
Em
C
Em
That's your funeral.
C
Em
If you're fond of overeating,
Starve yourself by under -eating,
B
Em
B
Visualize the earth descending on you,
F#dim
You can't come back
C#dim
F#
B
derneath a sod.
Em
We will not reduce our prices.
C
F#dim
Em
Keep your vice as usual.
F#dim
B
Em
C
That's your fu neral, not our funeral.
B
Em
C
Em
That's your funeral.
C
Em
I don't think this song is funny.
Here's the boy, now where's the
money?
Em
thoughts macabre
B
Em
There's no need to frown
F#dim
Em
C#dim
In the end we'll either burn you up
C
B
or nail you down
Em
We love coughs and wheezes
C
Em
and diseases called incurable
F#dim
B
That's your funeral.
No one else's funeral.
B
Cdim
B
That's your fu neral.
Em
O que você achou da música?
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesAm F#dim B Em Cdim...
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4.8
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