C         G            F           C
I was born on a Sunday, with blood on my hands
     C            Am              G
in a room full of phonographs and old electric fans
      C          G             F            C
and I slept in a graveyard for bicycles and cars
      C                  Am             G
and I dreamed of distant scenery, but I never strayed too far

          F            C
Because I do what they ask me
  F            C
I never run my mouth
           F                C     
and by the time they turn against me
     G
I'll have them figured out

    C F          C
And I learned to lie
   C            F            C
By watching you turn to your enemies
        C            F           C
And the apple you've got in your eye
       Am    F               G
Has become a stain you don't want

      C       G        F              C
So I left the city as soon as I could walk
        C                     Am            G
But the buildings loomed like sentinels; it wasn't what I thought
     C             G                  F                C
So I slept in your bathtub, while you put your make-up on
       C           Am                       G
And I daydreamed about your lungs 'til your cigarettes were gone

      F              C
Now I roam because I have to
    F             C
I'm never welcome long
                 F               C
And thought this road leads to disaster
     G
I've always got my songs

    C F          C
And I learned to laugh
   C            F             C
By watching you burn all your photographs
           C              F                 C
And you're right that the good things won't last
          Am                        G
But these wars are never won by our twiddling thumbs

        F             C           F            C
Well, I did what they asked me: I never ran my mouth
           F                   C          G
And by the time they turned against me, I had them figured out
          F              C            F             C
And now I roam because I have to: I'm never welcome long
                F                C           G 
And though this road leads to disaster, I've always got my songs

    C F          C
And I learned to die
   C            F             C
By watching you choke on your misery
           C        F            C
And if the apple is torn from my eye
        Am                    G     C
I won't be alone, because I'm going home