Pink Slips chords by Okkervil River

Standard Tuning
CAPO 1



A                                F#m
Three brides before breakfast. These rails just wrecked us.
Bm                                 D          E
My right hand on my heart while my left hand snaps your necklace.

A                                  F#m
Each day gets a little more scary. We're holding on, in a way, but just barely.
Bm                                 D             E
Moms and Dads are rationing their cash for the commissary.

    D        E            C#m   F#m     Bm           D             E
But I can't start without going all the way - it's a habit someone gave me.
    A                                F#m
The nursemaid of the blank page. A canary of the American eclipse.
     D                  E
A profiteer picking up pink slips.


A                                   F#m
This wish just to go back, hey... when I know wasn't ever, ever happy!
Bm                             D        E
Show me my best memory - it's probably super crappy.
A                              F#m
Nine years down in Texas, with sluts of both sexes,
Bm                                   D          E
liars, lumps, and drug addicts, and drunks; I love my friends,


    D        E           C#m   F#m     Bm            D                   E
but I can't stop without going all the way, and I've been that way since '83.
A                              F#m
The midwife of the jetlife. Oh, genie with a golden spliff.
  D                  E
A prostitute paid in pink slips.


A                                                F#m
I crashed my Cadillac in the valley of mirrors. When the call came, there was nobody here.
Bm
When they came from the communists, I kissed them on the lips.
          D                          E
Then they came for the singers, in a haze of pink slips.

A                                         F#m
I guess I was just dreaming and drifting, artificially lifted.
Bm                          D               E
Only happy until the age of ten is still a gift,


    D           E             C#m  F#m  Bm
but we can't go back to those   "227"     days.
             D                E
It's just a dream we all were having.
A                                     F#m
Hey, mariner in the dirt trade. Oh, postman of the post-apocalypse -
      D                   E
from Academy Awards to pink slips!


A                                                             F#m
And I showered my Corvette with Moà«t for years, but now I'm standing
 in the rain drinking the champagne of beers.
          Bm
They say, "Who's that shadow sneaking off behind the pier?
        D                                              E
He was rushed and then he was rattled, but now he's finally in the clear to be a

A                                        F#m
refugee from the rat race, in his white tuxedo and his sad-face.
  Bm                                 D                    E
A music group that your dad plays, singing songs about autumn days.
A                                          F#m
He's the laureate of the Granite State, and now he doesn't even write, he just riffs.
             D                          E
And they'll cover up his coffin with pink slips."