Fix My Blues

Tom : C#m
C#

[Verse 1]
C#
Ain’t I fair, ain’t I kind, and I’m paid to feel fine
G#m B
but I haven’t spent a dime since I met you
C#
Your breasts are like two wrists that I handcuffed to my dick
G#m B
in a subculture of love and refraction

[Chorus]
C#m F#
And I die every morning again,
B G#m
Me at my worst is fun for them
C#m F#
And I die with a feeding tube
C#m F#
While you try to fix my blues

[Verse 2]
C#
Your city’s so unclean in a Washington machine
G#m B
and your face is like a cage and two of them
C#
And your sentiment is gone and it’s now enslaved by gods
G#m B
while I strum my broken legs like a banjo

[Chorus]
[Bridge]
C#m G# C#m
But when I feel my heart retract into my soul
A F#
It makes an ego seem more valuable than gold

[Chorus]