perfect, but it sounds resonably close to the song. Bb Nothing is crueler than children who come from good homes Bb God'll forgive them I guess but whose side are you on Bb Driving around the old town I remember it all Bb Dropping my lunchbox and tampax all over the hall (And they said) Db You are a socialist cokehead we know from your clothes Db You are a Satanist worshipper of things evil Db Think you're a poet a folksinger poseur nah-oh Db A volleyball player you've got to be kidding us all
Ab So we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance Ab Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn Bb No-one can stop us the script is a work of genius Bb No-one has bought the rights yet but we're not giving up Bb Every unwanted lawn jockey fits in the script Bb Directed by spielberg and starring the masochist club C Mary you look like hell C Stuck in that ridiculous shell, oh Eb Give us some light and god's pure love Ab We know what you've been dreaming of Eb Give us some light and god's pure love Ab We know what you've been dreaming of Eb Give us some light and god's pure love Em We're taking you to Hollywooo-oood (Bbm) (Holllyyyywoooooddd!) Ab And we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance Ab Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn Db One plays a socialist cokehead we dress in my clothes Db One plays a Satanist worshipper of things evil Db One plays a poet who starts up a band of his own Db One plays a volleyball player with both her wrists broke Ab And we hide from the guns on our night reconnaissance Ab Steal flamingos and gnomes from the dark side of the lawn Ab And we give them good homes give them love they've never known Ab
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