Tom: Ab major
Verse 1
My love
Suit them, frame them to
your own vision
to your vast heart
and your worth
width
The depth of your sorrow
the light of our love
finery
of their businesses
of angels
Nor of any higher outpost that humanity
His advisors
Crumbling mockeries of education
And in their advanced
state of stupidity
Burn and destroy them so their ashes
might join the compost
Which they so much deserve
And the braying
of the businessman king
And petticoats which you will
In time is bound to find the truth sublime
You're not worth shitting on
O que você achou da música?
AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesF G Em Eb D
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