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New Mexico Song

Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains

Text File

Thought I'd tab this as the other one's quite difficult to understand, work out the muting and strumming patterns for yourselves, it's pretty easy. Intro C G Am F As he lights an American spirit C G He asks how I can smoke such shit Am F C G Am F I say there's nothing like chaining C G G-P-C ciggarettes. Am F Cuz any smokes will kill ya C G But these will make you feel like it. Am F I sit back down, Am C on the parking lot curb G Dm And remember back to February Am C The trip to Hartford G Dm And five minutes ago C G He was passed out on the staircase Am F Trying to make it to his appartment C G but not making it all the way. Am F And now he's driving us C G 100 miles an hour down the interstate Am F Another beer in his hand C G Swearin' we won't be late. Am F That was before everyone moved to New Mexico. Am C They all left a couple of months ago Am C Until the day my friend Am C G Dm When I sleep on the floor of your van again Am C G Dm I'll be waiting in this parking lot, Am C G Dm and in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free. Am C G Am C My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to Dm Am C G Am many miles. C Not really sure whats played here, I just play C G Am F twice over, which fits nicely. We aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution. Am C G Dm Am C G Dm And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you Am C G Dm And maybe we'd all be better off if that was true Am C G Dm Cuz then we'd at least know where we stand Am C G Dm And we could tell our comrades apart from the man Am C G Dm cuz if the world isn't that simple C G Maybe this town is at least Am F And if I'm not marching with them for war I'm sure not marching with you for C G Am F peace Class traitor? What fucking ever! C G Am F I'm just another middle class kid, too. C G Am F But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self loathing C G Am F So I'll class hate myself with you. C G Am F May our only occupation be not having a job Am C And may the only cocktails that we make be molotov Am C May that day be now, and for as many days after that as we know how Am C G Dm Am C G Dm It starts in this parking lot, Am C G Dm and in my dreams, I am dirty broke beautiful Am C G Am and free. My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after C Dm Am C G hitching too many miles. Am C
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