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New Mexico Song
Johnny Hobo And The Freight Trains
Text File
So i noticed the other tab that's basically correct had the chord names under the
lyrics, instead of on top of them which was really confusing. I fixed them to be
in standard tab format, and corrected a couple lyrics.
Intro
C G Am F
C G
As he lights an American spirit
Am F
He asks how I can smoke such shit
C G Am F
C G
I say there's nothing like chaining
Am F
G-P-C ciggarettes.
C G
Cuz any smokes will kill ya
Am F
But these will make you feel like it.
Am C
I sit back down,
G Dm
on the parking lot curb
Am C
And remember back to February
G Dm
The trip to Hartford
C G
And five minutes ago
Am F
He was passed out on the staircase
C G
Trying to make it to his appartment
Am F
but not making it all the way.
C G
And now he's driving us
Am F
100 miles an hour down the interstate
C G
Another beer in his hand
Am F
Swearin' we won't be late.
Am C
That was before everyone moved to New Mexico.
Am C
They all left a couple of months ago
Am C G Dm
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 Am C
and in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free.
Dm Am C G Am
My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to
C
many miles.
Not really sure whats played here, I just play C G Am F twice over, which fits nicely.
Am C G Dm Am C G Dm
We aren't revolutionaries, but we are the revolution.
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
C G
cuz if the world isn't that simple
Am F
Maybe this town is at least
C G Am F
And if I'm not marching with them for war I'm sure not marching with you for
peace
C G Am F
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.
Am C
May our only occupation be not having a job
Am C
And may the only cocktails that we make be molotov
Am C G Dm Am C G Dm
May that day be now, and for as many days after that as we know how
Am C G Dm
It starts in this parking lot,
Am C G Am
and in my dreams, I am dirty broke beautiful
C Dm Am C G
and free. My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after
Am C
hitching too many miles.