D A G This is my forty-fifth depressing tune D A G Em They're looking for money as they clean my artistic womb D A G Em And when I give birth to the child I must take to flight D A G Em 'Cause the black in our pocket won't let us fight A C A proper fight A So hey baby C A Can you shed some light on the problem maybe C A D G 'Cause we're all tired and we'd like to know Em C Cm G G If we should pack our tents, shut down the show Em C Cm G Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign C Cm G But anything would be fine D A G We're all told to dance but we never picked the tune D A G Em Hanging like puppets they feed us from bent steel spoons D A G Em But we're sealing our lips for the someday when the needle D A G Em And the vinyl play all the songs of the pain A C Songs that explain A All our circles and strains C A So hey baby C A Can you shed some light on the problem maybe C A D G 'Cause we're all crying and we'd like to know Em C Cm G G If we should pack our tents, shut down the show Em C Cm G Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign C Cm G But anything would be fine Solo C A D G We're all dying and we'd like to know Em C Cm G G If we should pack our tents, shut down the show Em C Cm G Yes, we should like to see a burning bush-type sign C Cm G But anything would be fine C Cm G Oh, anything would be fine
