BbAb
BbAb Rip down the fences that fence the garden,
BbAb There are mornings when the fruit seems to glisten under sun, with the jeweler's sick delight,
BbCm And it's morning, and I'm starving, and the shadow-maker's shadow has hardened,
BbEb 17, in the morning, I'm crying out warnings in methamphetamines, not alright,
EbF# They play rough, rough, settle this stuff,
AbGm We're all made of mothers, and not from some cloth,
AbGm But the tail of a cloth, shall be the wearer-cloth,
CmAbEb In the dawn, by the river, I shall swallow my rage!
BbAb Help me, opposer, but the tempest has brought a breath that's rotten,
BbAb Well, it's 4 in the morning, and the boiler keeps twinkling as the trucks stretch into light,
BbCm And the judge and his son, they were pigs, so I must flee from this garden,
BbEb And I feel that the next land will be but a fat land, and I hope for the wind and his wolfish bite,
EbF# That bite, rough, rough, settle this stuff,
AbGm Your fangs are but a page from the book of tough stuff,
AbGm And the Welch's of wine, and I'm gonna pledge you their cups,
CmAbEb If only you could rise into a Saint Peter's life,
CmAbEb Lay a siege upon the city that bequeath you it's light.
FmEb And whoa to the days where we buried our light,
FmEbFm And maters of this day will never get over it's stage fright,
Eb And whoa to the fascist, and his delight,
BbAb Tears on the floor,
BbAb Tears on the floor,
BbEb Tears on the floor.
EbDbEbDbEbFmAbCm
BbAb And you rip down the fences that fence the garden,
BbAb It is morning, when the fruit seems to glisten under sun, in a murderer's sick delight,
BbCm And you can't always control the passing white fire,
BbEb Cause it's water, sweet fuckin' water that makes you feel alright!
BbEb They say settle, settle, settle, settle this stuff,
BbEb They say settle, settle, settle, settle this stuff.
Gm Bb x4 Db Eb