E5                                              A5
Mrs. E. Roosevelt never heard me shoot my gun, la, la, la
E5                                              A5
Mrs. E. Roosevelt didn't even know I owned one la, la, la
C5                                                               
Somewhere between the cobblestone floor 
                      G5  
and the slated wooden ceiling la, la, la
A5                                           E5
Cuddling my semi-automatic, what a very fuzzy feeling la la la
A5          C5            G5                    E5      A5
Oh, there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun

C5          G5
Uh-merica, Uh-merica
A5         E5
Uh-merica, Uh- merica
A5          C5            G5                    E5      A5
Oh, there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun.


Oh we're born alone and then we're covered by m-m-m-mother's kisses
The mind has already forgotten what the body still misses
Somewhere between the sticky floor and the cracks in the ceiling
Cuddling my semi automatic, what a very fuzzy feeling
Oh, there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun

Uh-merica, Uh-merica
Uh-merica, Uh- merica
Oh, there's nothing like emptying a cartridge at the sun