G D*
G D Em D C   Cm   x2

[Verse 1]
G               D                    Em               C
    I'm growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly haircuts,
G   D                     C      C
    taking what comfort we can
G          D               Em                C              G   D   C   C
    in the fact that every empire's days are numbered...man.
G               D     Em                        C
    But I don't think that I can count that high.
  G                         D                    C          C
I should have paid better attention in school or something,
          G                           D                        Em                  C
because I feel like there's something that I don't know and if I could just jam it into my skull,
G           D                 C     C
    I could stand to live somehow.     But I don't know.

[Interlude]
G D Em D C   Cm   x2

[Verse 2]
G           D             Em              C
    And the fact is I'm 2 point 7 decades in
G   D               C           C
     to a growing ambivalence.
G           D                 Em                 C
    I could count on no hands how many fucks I'm giving.
           G                       D                        C                  C
Or is it a million? Are "god" and "void" equivalent? So are we making total destroy, or just making a living?
G         D         Em                     C
    And I know that Rome wasn't burnt in a day,
G          D                               C      C
    but it couldn't have been more than a week.
G         D             Em                 C
    And I know that the children of barbarians
G              D                     C         C
    become the new tax collectors and priests.   So I don't know.

[Interlude]
G D Em D C   Cm   x2

[Bridge]
Em                       C                           G
    I suppose we've been rolling since the world was round, and time makes dust of what we
D
  can't tear down.
Em                     C                         G                               D
    And I suppose dead bodies make soil of the ground. But what about what we do now?

[Verse 3]
G*              D*                   Em*               C*
    I'm growing old in rooms full of kids with unruly haircuts,
G   D                     C      C
    taking what comfort we can
G          D         Em             C
    in the fact that every empire's days are numbered, man.
G               D                       C     C   G*
    But I don't think I can count that high.