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 (4x)