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