This is a great song from Conor's new album "Outer South"

From: Robert Sin

Intro: Gm - G*     

G*
e---3----
B---3----
G---3----
D---3----
A---3----
E---3----




Gm                 G*
Hey there son of Adam
Gm                   G*
Hey there daughter of Eve
Gm                         G*
Help me sing this tear gas riot song
Gm                   G*
To some fresh faced police
F
They won't even know what hit 'em
When they lift their Roman shades
Gm                                           Dm            Gm
When the people's song comes pouring in on a brand new day

Gm                   G*
Now, you who dam the river
Gm                      G*
You who change a mountain's name
Gm                     G*
First we marched to rally back
Gm                           G*
Now we're taking down Washington state
F
In death there's a consolation
You know only hate and rage
Em
You paid a dowry for your child's rights
Dm                              Gm
Now she's living like a slave


Gm                      G*
A prayer came down the wire
Gm                             G*
And it was all in the enemy's code
Gm                               G*
You couldn't figure out what mercy meant
Gm                          G*
Until you did like you were told
F
When they finally sent the doctors
Once the fireball went out
Gm
There was nothing left but the cockroaches
Dm                       Gm
In a movie with no sound


Bb                 F        Gm
What good, what good are you?
Bb                               F              Gm
With your cynical flag and your Roosevelt room
Bb                 F        Gm
What good, what good are you?
Bb                       F                      Gm
With your Cherokee trail and your Arlington tomb

Yeah, go ask Hunter Thompson
Yeah, go ask Hemmingway's ghost
It all catches up with you
Once you get just a little too old
Take a hard look in the mirror
It's a thing that you did not see
The shadow's long
But the day is young
It just wasn't meant to be

There's no blankets for the winter
There's no oil in the lamp
And I'd like to write my congressman
But I can't afford the stamp
You want me to pay my taxes
So you can propagate your lies
While there's barefoot dudes down in New Orleans
Looking like they're gonna die

Yeah, you who quote the legends
You who poisoned all of my dreams
You pinned all of the medals on
All those boys from Omaha Beach
Hope you haven't got too lazy
I know you like your apple pie
But the working poor you've been pissing on
Are doing double shifts tonight

What good, what good are you?
With your cynical flag and your Roosevelt room
What good, what good are you?
With your Cherokee trail and your Arlington tomb