Fix My Blues

C#

C#
Ain’t I fair, ain’t I kind, and I’m paid to feel fine
G#m                                B
but I haven’t spent a dime since I met you
C#
Your breasts are like two wrists that I handcuffed to my dick
G#m                           B
in a subculture of love and refraction

C#m             F#
And I die every morning again,
B                G#m
Me at my worst is fun for them
C#m              F#
And I die with a feeding tube
C#m                     F#
While you try to fix my blues

C#
Your city’s so unclean in a Washington machine
G#m                                  B
and your face is like a cage and two of them
C#
And your sentiment is gone and it’s now enslaved by gods
G#m                                  B
while I strum my broken legs like a banjo

C#m             F#
And I die every morning again,
B                G#m
Me at my worst is fun for them
C#m              F#
And I die with a feeding tube
C#m                     F#
While you try to fix my blues

C#m        G#              C#m
But when I feel my heart retract into my soul
A                         F#
It makes an ego seem more valuable than gold

C#m             F#
And I die every morning again,
B                G#m
Me at my worst is fun for them
C#m              F#
And I die with a feeding tube
C#m                     F#
While you try to fix my blues

Cifra adaptada de fontes públicas. Direitos da composição pertencem aos autores e gravadoras originais. Esta página é parte do projeto educacional Mania de Músico.