Spaces:
Running
Running
| [Verse 1] | |
| Gm D# | |
| I've been selling my soul, working all day. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| Overtime hours, for bullshit pay. | |
| Gm D# | |
| So I can sit out here, and waste my life away. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| Drag back home, and drown my troubles away. | |
| [Pre-Chorus 1] | |
| Gm D# | |
| It's a damn shame, what the world's gotten to. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| For people like me, and people like you. | |
| Gm D# | |
| Wish I could just wake up, and it not be true. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| But it is, aw it is. | |
| [Chorus 1] | |
| Gm D# A# F F6 F | |
| Livin' in the new world, with an old soul. | |
| Gm D# | |
| These rich men north of Richmond, Lord knows they all | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| just wanna have total control | |
| Gm D# | |
| Wanna know what you think, wanna know what you do. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| And they don't think you know, but I know that you do. | |
| Gm D# | |
| 'Cause your dollar ain't shit, and it's taxed to no end | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| 'Cause of rich men, north of Richmond. | |
| [Interlude] | |
| Gm D# A# F F6 F | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| Gm D# | |
| I wish politicians would look out for miners. | |
| A# F | |
| And not just minors on an island somewhere. | |
| Gm D# | |
| Lord, we got folks in the street, ain't got nothin' to eat. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| And the obese, milkin' welfare. | |
| Gm D# | |
| But God, if you're five foot three and you're three hundred pounds. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| Taxes ought not to pay for your bags of fudge rounds. | |
| Gm D# | |
| Young men are puttin' themselves six feet in the ground. | |
| A# F | |
| 'Cause all this damn country does, is keep on kickin' them down. | |
| [Pre-Chorus 2] | |
| Gm D# | |
| Lord, it's a damn shame, what the world's gotten to. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| For people like me, and people like you. | |
| Gm D# | |
| Wish I could just wake up, and it not be true. | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| But it is, aw it is. | |
| [Chorus 2] | |
| Gm D# A# F F6 F | |
| Livin' in the new world, with an old soul. | |
| Gm D# | |
| These rich men north of Richmond, Lord knows they all | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| just wanna have total control | |
| Gm D# | |
| Wanna know what you think, wanna know what you do. | |
| A# F | |
| And they don't think you know, but I know that you do. | |
| Gm D# | |
| 'Cause your dollar ain't shit, and it's taxed to no end | |
| A# F F6 F | |
| 'Cause of rich men, north of Richmond. | |
| [Outro] | |
| Gm D# A# F F6 F | |
| Gm D# A# F | |
| Gm D# | |
| I've been selling my soul, working all day. | |
| A# F F6 F Gm | |
| Overtime hours, for bullshit pay. |