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Intro: G C G Em
G
(It was a hot June day, and my ass was sticking to the seat of my girlfriend's car.)
C
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!.
G
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby
C
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!.
G
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby
C
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!.
G
Staten Island traffic in the summer, baby
C
Staten Island traffic in the summer, summer!.
G
And when you stuff yourself into a suit and tie
C
do you think the judge can see through the sweat as he gives you your fine
G
for a post-panic attack speeding ticket on a
C
90 degree day in New York.
G
And yeah, you're gonna drive home for three hours to work in a
C
basement for tribute bands making posters
G
to pay about a fifth of that price.
C
It's just Staten Island traffic in the summer.
Oh!
Em C
That orange ball. (HEY HEY HEY)
Em C
That burning orb of fire in the sky is gonna explode and we're all gonna die!
G D B
Except for the foolish few who will 'think ahead' and drive their SUV's to their bomb shelters
Em C Em C
Complain about air conditioning because 'baby, we ain't got no more electricity.'
C
They wanna rise when it's done, be a leader with a gun.
A
Be a leader of what? Like a hundred and one?
Em C
Well, fuck it, I'm gonna hang out on the rooftop when it comes.
D C
'Cause when it's dark, it'll be night time, baby.
G C
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess.
D C
The only stores that are open, baby.
G
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream.
D Em
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk
G Em
and we'll talk talk talk about how much much much
F Am
how much fun we had, yeah, when
G
we were fuckin' the world, oh we're fucking the world, yeah!
G C
Through the glares on our windshields, we can't see each others eyes,
G C
just McDonalds cups and wrappers that they're throwing at full speed.
G C
And yes, I long for a shadow. And yes, I always appreciate the irony
G C
that the only cool comfort that allows us to see is a goddamn billboard. Sing it with me.
G
A BILL BOARD (BILLBOARD) IS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING US FROM
C
BLIND-LY CRASH-ING.
G
A BILL BOARD (BILLBOARD) IS THE ONLY THING PREVENTING US FROM
Em
BLIND-LY CRASH-ING.
G
And we'll never see a city not marred by advertisements,
C
and we'll NEVER have a future not working for those companies,
G
and it's sure as shit not getting better
Am
so we might as well accept it now, oh.
Em C
And that really doesn't cheapen anything
Em C
because, baby, we're all born to be businessmen.
G
Every Fugazi record has a catalog number and a price tag
D B
and every independent label is selling you another goddamn product.
Em C
But, NO, WE'RE not slaves to the music.
Em C
Oh no, WE'RE not slaves to the company, baby.
C
We do what we're born and raised to do
A
and when youre creating something, you're producing something
D C
and the act of producing is the creation of a product.
D C
'Cause when it's dark, it'll be night time, baby.
G C
And I'll get my ass on up out of this mess.
D C
The only stores that are open, baby.
G
They gonna sell beer, and they're gonna sell ice cream.
D Em
And we'll drink drink drink and get drunk drunk drunk
G Em
and we'll talk talk talk about how much much much
F Am
how much fun we had, yeah, when
G
we were fuckin' the world, oh we're fucking the world, yeah!
Em F
Yeah, we were fu fu cking cking the the world world.
C
When the sun drops, you ain't gonna be hungover the next day.
G
When the comet hits, you ain't gonna have no bills to pay.
Bb
When the bomb hits, it's gonna be a four day weekend. Hey hey!
Am
When it's all done I'm gonna feel great
G Em G Am
...finally.
G C
And when I finally got to work today, I ate my Subway sandwich,
G C
and I drank my Coca-Cola Classic, and then I ate my Sunchips
G C
and I thought about the weekend when I'd fill up my Ford van
G C
with Mobil brand gas and drive to the Clear Channel venue and
G C
I'd drink myself a Budweiser and play my Fender guitar
G C
through my Fender amplifier and tell the kids with a straight face
G C G C
through a Shure microphone and JBL speakers that corporate rock is for suckers.
Uhh yeah.