xEm Bm G Fm
Boys run like water from the barrel to the trough.
Fm
They'll never stop their running.
Bm G Bm G
Gunning for their brothers.
Em Bm
This house is a hostel.
G Fm
It is peaceful, but it's always emptying.
Bm G Bm G
Boys all want to be someone.
Bm Em G Fm
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird.
Fm Bm G Bm G
I am a liar, feeding facts to a false fire.
Bm Em G Fm
If pathos is borne, borne out of bullshit--in formal attire,
Bm G Bm G
I'll score you a string ensemble.
Bm Em G Fm Bm G Bm G
Em Bm
I saw my son at seventeen,
G Fm Bm G Bm G
The shutters made projections on his naked frame.
Em Bm
Now at twenty-five,
G Fm Bm G Bm G
He simply cannot stay away from the ketamine.
Em Bm
With makeup on his sores,
G Fm Bm G Bm G
He spends an hour a day composing little eulogies.
Em Bm
Sometimes he sends me letters,
G Fm Bm G Bm G
But it's mostly garbled phrases and apologies.
Bm Em G Fm
Haven't you heard? I am a flightless bird.
Fm Bm G Bm G
I am a liar, feeding facts to a false fire.
Bm Em G Fm
If pathos is borne, borne out of bullshit--in formal attire,
Bm G Bm G
Cue the Bulgarian men's choir.
