A                                   D                    E
Look, here comes another man with another sorry story to tell
 A                                           D                           E
And you can bet he'll tell me all about the time he fell from Heaven to Hell
         A
Well, I don't wanna listen but he tells me all the same
    D                        E
Of torturous debauchery form his wife's little games
  A
Leave me alone, you're not a dog, I'm not a bone
             D                      E
But you're gonna bury me with your tales of misery

[Bridge]
      F#m
And when I'm out on Saturday with Charlie and Bill
    D                            E            F#m
I know full well I shouldn't I don't know if I will
F#m
Or I won't, will I do what I don't?
   D                             E
Nothing is for definite and nothing is for sure
D                         E
I am getting desperate as I am getting poor

[Chorus]
        C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
              A
With their stories and their tears, and their cigarettes and beers
          C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
   F                                  G
I think they're killing me with their grim reality

[Verse]
A                                      D                    E
Look, here comes another drunk with a face longer than bin Laden's
A                                       D                E
And he has drunk so much alcohol he can no longer get a hard-on
A
Not that he'd ever get a chance to use it
  D                        E
Women are intelligent and he is stupid
 A                              D                           E
Lost and lonely he will remain, no amount of alcohol will wash his blues away

[Bridge]
      F#m
And when I'm out on Saturday with Charlie and Bill
    D                            E            F#m
I know full well I shouldn't I don't know if I will
F#m
Or I won't, will I do what I don't?
   D                             E
Nothing is for definite and nothing is for sure

[Chorus]
        C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
              A
With their stories and their tears, and their cigarettes and beers
          C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
   F                                  G
I think they're killing me with their grim reality

[Solo]
B B
A A D E x6

[Verse]
A                                           D             E
Well, a thirty-three year-old grandma comes up to me and says
      A
"My family's gonna take over this council estate
       D                            E
If we keep on giving birth at this rate
                    A                               D               E
I could've been a great-great-great-grandma by the age of seventy-five
     A                                       D                     E
And I will be clad in fake Burberry, I don't care if I'm dead or alive
        D                    E
I don't care if I'm dead or alive."

[Chorus]
        C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
              A
With their stories and their tears, and their cigarettes and beers
          C
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
   F                                  G
I think they're killing me with their grim reality
          A
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
        D                         E
If your life is going wrong, you better sing along
        A
All the fucked up fuck ups fucking me up
      D          E
(You fucked up fuck ups!)
A