The Politics Of Holy Shit I Just Cut My Hand On A Bottle

C               G             Em        F
He talks about nothing using too many words.
C           G        Em     F            C    G     Em   F
He talks revolution for an hour without using any verbs.
C             G             Em            F
She acts the rage which is most of her problem.
   C              G              Em         F
In love with everyone until she wakes up tomorrow.
C        G        Em    F
Another Saturday night.
C                 G        Em    F
Another fucking shitty Saturday night.


[Bridge]

C                        Em
I'm sitting in the next room,
           F            G
Slurring along to my isolation
                    C
At the top of my lungs.
                  Em
I'm sitting here next to you.
      F                       G
Sore throat from jokes about all the dumbest things I've done.


[Chorus]

C       Am     F      G
I don't wanna, be anywhere at all
C       Am     F      G
Here or at my house kicking at the wall
C                     Am
If home is where the heart is
        F               G
Then I live in my upper chest.
C          G                 Dm
I'm gonna drink until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C           G                        Dm
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.


[Verse]

C                G                 Em              F
The bottles are stacked like they show how we're different.
C                G          Em   F
And that maybe if we were sober
            C         G         Em   F
We could explain what this all meant.
C            G           Em     F
But pints of Vodka don't write poetry.
    C          G                   Em        F
You can't rearrange crushed pills into melodies.
C                G
But I swear to fuck;
Em                             F                     C
That a brick through a broken Starbucks window means more.
                G
And I swear to fuck;
          Em                     F                        C
That we fight more systems when we're passed out on the floor.
                    G
Than the words of Kropotkin ever could.
     Em                         F
And all the works of Karl Marx ever fucking could.


[Verse]

C                       Em
I'm puking in the next room.
F
Sorry about the carpet,
         G                    C
Clean it up or your mom'll be mad.
                        Em
I'm pretending that I'm too good for you.
        F                         G
So you can't see the worthless pathetic person I am.


[Bridge]

C
Better to seem like an asshole,
G
Than what you are.
Em
The billionth teenage boy with social problems
F
To plays the guitar.


[Chorus]

C                   Am
I'm not sure what I want you to say to me.
    F                        G
But I know the look on your face that I want to see.
C                     Am
If home is where the heart is
      F          G
Then mine is a cigarette.
C          G                 Dm
I'm gonna drink until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C           G                        Dm
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.


[Verse]

    C            G            Em        F
I'm not you and that's good enough for me.
     C    G          Em      F
The only word that I use is fuck,
           C           G       Em  F
So you can forget the dictionary.


[Bridge]

C        G         Em              F
I can't tell what question you're asking.
C        G          Em       F
I don't care 'cause no is my answer.


C        G        Em    F
Another Saturday night.
C          G            Em    F
Against everything on Saturday night.


[Verse]

C                         Em
I'm bleeding in the next room.
F                               G                         C
Let it happen 'cause maybe the blood-loss will add to my high.
                 Em
I'm here beating up on you.
            F                       G
'cause I'm just drunk enough to be sure that I'm ready to die.
C       Em             F              G
I don't care that you don't care that I don't care.
C                   Em               F   G
The only card game I know is strip solitaire.


[Chorus]

C                    Am
If home is where the heart is
    F          G
I got evicted this week.
C          G                 Dm
I'm gonna drink until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.
C           G                        Dm
I'm gonna drink tonight until these tears
      F
Start to taste like the cheap beer.