D Dm At the center where they go on weekdays D Dm D It takes hours just to slake that thirst D Dm Heavy heels and a daunting pulse rate D Dm Bm Bad idea for your blistered toes G To my wheel, well youre getting close D So say adios A The conjecturers reject the rose G Don't stay high high-igh-igh-igh D On abuse Em F#m G F#m Sometimes it feels like the worlds's stuffed with feathers Em F#m G A Table-bottom gum just holding it together Em D A A cold son, i am Em D A A cold son, i am D Dm You can chase it but it wont come easy D Dm D It's a revery so silver-quick D Dm It gets solid when you're old and hazy D Dm Bm Takes no leverage to make me click G To my wheel, well youre getting close D The tension grows A Defy conjecture and accept the rose G Don't stay high high-igh-igh-igh D On abuse Em F#m G F#m Who was it that said the world is my oyster? Em F#m G A I feel like a nympho stuck in a cloister! Em D A Cold son, i am Em D A A cold son, i am Em Face-plant stumble ahead D A Victim of your rival pretensions know me Em Face-plant stumble ahead D A Rival to the bitter pretensions know me Em D A Cold son, i am Em D A A cold son, i am Outro: Dm D7 x4