调:F major•
Verse 1
Better bet your bottom dollar
On the spirit, son, and father
Cause I'm my mother's daughter
Like a ginger- blow pugilist
I never learned to swing elbows
Or use my fist
Invest in problem markets
Verse 2
Gm
Bb
F
From the backs of tent flyers in pen
C
Verse 3
I'd throw fits and punch doors
I've just thinned; I want more
Trading places with my shadow
rising hell to swallow
robes with a staff only
Through the ribs and inner but
Poised to voice its cuts
Verse 4
F
pen
Em
D
Bm
The guilt- racked liar pretends
C
Verse 5
he was sane
And if he'll ever kill again
To link the weapon to the man
Or bash your skull on river rocks
hearts
Verse 6
Em
D
Bm
The guilt- racked liar pretends
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