Admiral Fallow // Boots Met My Face // Dead Leg
C#m: X46654
F#m: 244222
A: X02220
E: 022100
C#m A E A
You have grown up.
E A
Smoke-stack shadows in your eyes.
E A
And with annual courtroom ties,
E A
Cigarette burns in your clothes,
E A
Sugar spoons and frozen toes.
C#m A E A E A
And as for love;
C#m A E A
Oh God, you farce.
E A
Taught and brought up on your verse.
E A
Breaking rank deserves a curse.
E A E
Go home now son.
E A
I've forbidden what you love.
E A
Break your own glass with your glove.
F#m - A - C#m
E A E A
So you make blue the air.
E A
And with hands, in pockets, clenched;
E A
Swear to brutalise his wench,
E A
Burn some holes into his floor,
E A
Maybe petrol bomb his door.
F#m
Maybe not.
E
Maybe not.
C#m E A
'Cause that's youth today;
E A E A
They will fall on anyone in the name of having fun
E A
Or is it pressure from you peers?
E A
As the cries fall on deaf ears.
F#m
What have I done?
E A E A
What have I done?
Music By Admiral Fallow.