F5             C5                       G5
   I wear the customary clothes of my time,

     D5                  Bb5     D5     F5      Bb5
Like Jesus did, with no reason not to die

F5                 F5                     Bb5
   Facing history,   with little to no irony

     F5            C5              D5            Bb5
Like Im some forgotten southern city, Sherman razed

F5               C5           D5              Bb5
Still hid under thick smoke after all these years

      F5             F5                 D5
These hands, are my fathers hands but smaller

                Bb5
Soaked in paint thinner,

                              D5
Until theyre so dry coming together,

              G5                      F5
They make the sound of resisting each other

         G5          Bb5         F5       G5    F5
A shrill squeal like two moving rubber, tires touching

G5   F5        G5   F5
Hide nothing, hide nothing