Springterror

Intro: Strum the G chord hammer on the G note a few times.


G
Look at all the steam off the snow
                       Em              C      Am
We listen to the Top 40 country radio blow
G
Listen to the singer
                          Em           C
Trying to put my finger on who killed who
G
When it does linger
                                Em          C
The sweet nostril-stinger of the springs mildew
G                                      Em
Was it your will to take his pill orally?
C              Am
Or did you act perfunctorily?
G
The lamp-shadow dampness

The safe world of campus
                              Em
The water of your high school eyes
C
Some stadium
Am
Some old college tries
G
There in my stomach the liquor heated

With every place I ever trick-or-treated and
Em
We used to message through the ink of night
C                         Am
With skin still young and pink and tight
D                                Em
Back when the tongue thrust with all of our young lust
      Am                      Bm                     C    Am
The dimple-chin brunettes who make simpleton pets of me
G
And yes, Im a heel
       G7
But with Peters keel
         Em                  C
I will cut through the lily-pads
Am                     D
The moping mothers and hillbilly dads
        Em                           G
And the billboard dentist from White Lake to East Lansing
        Am            D
With his day-glo halo sentence entrancing
G                                Em
The moon makes lake-water out to be a filmy skin
      C              Am                   Em       C
But who can begin to tell what skin holds far within
G
Oh, the bathers
G7
Oh, the toweling
Em                          C
Your cells are saviors that ring wet bells growling and
G
You have the black eyes
      G7
Just holes filled with night skies
Em                            C
A saddening sweetness through your kid-sister sighs
         G                       Em
Where the Sylvan Lake corner is flickering with childhood
          C                     Am
And the mourner within me feels older than wildwood
    G                     Em
And if I knew what part of me was wax
    C                         Am                  G
Id try to truncate it with a black sopping night axe