How They Made Us

    C         D         E         B      A
Intro
C  D  E  D  C  B
Verse 1
E                                                     D
It's a midwinter Friday and there's not a car on this highway
                                 C
That wouldn't hit me just to get home.
                                                        B
I'm riding punch lines and dregs from the pouch that we split
somewhere back on Punt Road.
E                                    D
And the big neon signs they all intertwine
                                              C
With the passing cars' headlights burning my eyes.
                                             B
In this city of excuses, dead palm trees and useless transport,
          A                    B
I use my legs to get to you on time.
Chorus
    A                          B                          C
But silence speaks louder than words that we don't understand,
               E           D           A
And I know the language is made out of
         B                       C
One upmanship and slight of hand.
          A    B    C                              A
But it's all we've got to explain how they made us,
E         D                A
Unable to explain how they made us.
E         D               E   D   C  B
Unable to explain how they
Verse 2
E                                        D
And I'm naked except for donations, rank revelations,
                                    C
My own bad behavior, pissing off the neighbours.
                                            B
Lying to colleagues about how interesting I am,
                                     E
Just so part of me is nothing like them and
                                         D
The clubs up on Swan Street pulse to the backbeat of violence and sadness
              C
and god awful sweat heat.
                                                 B
They tarnish reputations and they smash up train stations,
So angry they forgot what they were angry about.
A                                   B
This city is a punching bag for the punished to let something out.
A                    B                    E              D           C
But how can you stay mad when the red sun spits straight through the clouds
     B
like this?
        A
And the cold bites my skin.
    B
And you bit my upper lip.
Chorus 2
    A                          B                          C
But silence speaks louder than words that we don't understand,
               E           D            A
And I know the language is made out of
         B                       C
One upmanship and slight of hand.
          A    B    C                              A
But it's all we've got to explain how they made us,
  E         D                A
Unable to explain how they made us.
  E         D             C
Unable to explain how they