Dead Poetic — Vices

Текст песни с аккордами

    	    	Вступление

Capo 6th!

Verse 1:

Am              F            C               G
Feeling cold, feeling empty. Set the stage, where you want me.
        Am            F                   C            G
And this crowd right before me doesn’t care that I’m dying.
Am                                   F                 C            G
And the audience stands with their eyes fixed on the preconceived version of me.
          Am              F                      C                   G
I’m so betrayed by your hopes, but I will not hide myself for your peace of mind.

Chorus 1:

         Am              F                 C                  
Oh, but Child. I’ve got Vices like any other man.

Verse2: (same Chords as verse 1)

Raise a boy to a cynic. Take his love, and then let it turn into something passionate.
Something sick, something rabid.
And I vent to keep myself from caving. I don’t hate you, I just hate where I’m heading.
I’m left here asking, when did I trade in my bleeding heart for a selfish win?

Chorus 2:

Am              F                   C        
Oh, but Mother. I’ve got Vices like any other man.
Am             F                  C        G
Vices that you’re not used to. Vices that’ll make you think less of me.

Verse 3:

Leave me numb. Leave me jaded. She’s a dream, I just play dead.
I’ve been blessed, I’ve been hated. She’s the constant, and I’m her addict.
She’s the only peace in this world, uneasy.
While I bite my tongue to keep from breaking the heart that I’ve spent my whole life seeking.
The only heart I’ve ever needed.

Chorus 3:

Am                        F                  C        G
Oh, but Lover. I’ve got Vices like any other man.
Am                        F      C          G
Vices that you’re not used to. Vices that’ll make you think...
Am                        F                  C        G
Oh, but Lover. I’ve got Vices like any other man.
Am                        F       C          G
Vices that you’re not used to. Vices that’ll make you think less of me. Less of me.

Verse 4:

Feeling cold, feeling empty. I am low, unworthy.
Bleed the God. Bleed the blessing. Like a vulture feasting.
I’ll exist as if I don’t feel conviction of my ignorance to my perfect prison.
But I feel the stabs on my wrists and ankles every time I try...
          Am   F
To forget you. 
           C    G
To forget you.

Chorus 4

Am                        F             C        G
Oh, but Jesus. I’ve got Vices like any other man.
Am                 F              C            G                       Am
Vices that you’re so used to. Vices that won’t make you think less of me.
		
    

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