Shit Shots Count

| C       | G       | C       | G  
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| F       | C       | G       | G  

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[Verse 1]
         C                         
Put your cigarette out and get your
 G
 hat back on
      C                     G
Don't mix up which is which
F                    C
  They don't pay you enough to work
                G
Well they don't pay me enough to 
bitch
C                             G
  Boss ain't as smart as he'd like 
to be
             C                     
But he ain't nearly as dumb as you 
     G
think
F                  C             
  He just wants evolution on 
          G
budget with a schedule to keep

| C       | G       | C       | G  
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| F       | C       | G       | G  

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[Verse 2]
C                   G
Suburban four lanes moving like 
blood through an
C                    G
old man's dying heart
F                     C      
  Nothing but time to keep hope 
                G
alive at the speed of a stream of 
tar
C                         G
 He bought in young and I have no 
doubt
                C                  
he's gonna cash out with a winning 
     G
deal
F                          C
  Trophy tail wives taking boner 
pill rides for the
Continúa después del anuncio
G
price of a happy meal

[Chorus]
C                        G
Shit shots count and the table is 
tilted
     C                         
Just pay the man who levels the 
 G
floor
F                         C
Pride's what you charge a proud man 
for having
G
Shame is what you sell to a whore
C                         G
Meat’s just meat and it’s all born 
dying,
        C                       G
some is tender and some is tough.
F                  C
 Somebody's got to mop up the A1,
    G
somebody's got to mop up the blood

[Guitar solo over]
| D   Bm   | C   G   | Am       | 
Am       |
| C        | D   G   | F        | 

C        |

[Bridge]
D           Bm          C
High ground ain't high enough
            G            Am
To kill you quick if you fall
C      D         G           F 
  Idealistically speaking it 
                                 C
sounds like you ain't listening at 
all
D           Bm                    
Friday night riches are all you're
 C          G
 ever gonna need until the
Am
fight in you on Monday's gone
C                       G
One more drag tuck your hair in your
 hat
      F                          
Don't act so surprised try not to 
         C
look so lost

| C       | G       | C       | G  
     |
| F       | C       | G       | G  

     |

[Chorus]
C                        G
Shit shots count and the table is 
tilted
     C                         
Just pay the man who levels the 
 G
floor
F                         C
Pride's what you charge a proud man 
for having
G
Shame is what you sell to a whore
C                         G
Meat’s just meat and it’s all born 
dying,
        C                       G
some is tender and some is tough.
F                  C
 Somebody's got to mop up the A1,
    G
somebody's got to mop up the blood

| C       | G       | C       | G  
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| F       | C       | G       | G  
     |
| C       | G       | C       | G  
     |
| F       | C       | G       | G  
     |
| C       | G       | C       | G  
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| F       | C       | G       | G  
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