F#m (244222@1)  E (022100@1)     F#m (244222@1)     EI'm (022100@1)a mat and I still retain
F#m (244222@1)         E (022100@1)          C#mAccumulated (x13321@4)stories of the tawdry years
F#m (244222@1)             E (022100@1)     F#m (244222@1)     EI've (022100@1)been stamped out by rum-fuelled boots
F#m (244222@1)         E (022100@1)      C#mThe (x13321@4)brute, us hiding under stairs.
                 A (x02220@1)  E (022100@1)  C#mWaiting (x13321@4)for his thunder to hit
                 A (x02220@1)  E (022100@1)            C#mWaiting (x13321@4)for his thunder and thinking is this it?
                 A (x02220@1)  E (022100@1)  C#mWaiting (x13321@4)for his thunder to shout
                 A (x02220@1)  E (022100@1)  C#mWaiting (x13321@4)for his thunder to tire itself out.

So I lie flat, in sheets worn thin
By his sublimations that reside within
For I'm the truth, the two in ten
That suffer at the whims of the weakest men.

Waiting for his thunder 

A (x02220@1)            E (022100@1)       A (x02220@1)         E (022100@1)           Fm (133111@1)
Each bruise I use as a chronicle of all that you gave me now
A (x02220@1)         E (022100@1)       A (x02220@1)         E (022100@1)           C#mAnd (x13321@4)every scar a reminder of the power that you had
The saddest part about the darkest hours
The implication that the fault was ours.

Waiting for his thunder