The Blindfold The Bullet(Chords)

	        Intro : Am C F E 

Verse : 
                                      Am 
Stick stained with the color of my blood 
                             
Life has been a variance of luck 
C 
And a bunch of long trips getting dragged behind a truck 
F 
It's not the vision that I had when I was young 
E                                                                           
But it's better than pretending and then biting down on my tongue when they 
   Am 
ask me 
Go ahead and walk right past me 
C 
I don't need them now, a broken wave 
                     F 
No matter how the world spins round or the bounty on my plate 
         E             
What's inside of me is never gonna change 
But they don't wanna look 
Skipping like a stone across a brook 
Trying to keep me is a secret is strung up on a hook 
You can't evolve without somebody feeling took 
And reacting like they never seen upon attack a rook 
Get a grip, I've been painting pictures like this 
Long before you knew that a person like me existed 
You point your finger claiming product of the system 
But you wouldn't know the difference if it bit you 

Chorus :  

Am                 E 
Some things will always be the same 
C                     F 
I'm still right here to take the blame 
Am            E                 
One thing or another, it's all the same 
C                E                       Am 
It feels like I'm trying to start a fire in the rain 

C F E 

Verse : (same chords as before) 

It's like I'm spitting in the wind 
Judged by a jury full of trained 
Jumping kids trying to find a better skin 
I've made a valiant effort in my life to be honest with myself 
But no matter what I do I'll never win 
The needle and the pen 
Writing it all out for those receiving it 
Trying to get a breath amongst the smog 
Sounding like a tuned down song that's been stringing me along 
Trying to figure out where all of this went wrong 
It'd be easier to laugh 
Singing this from the inside of the casket 
Rapping out of tune, writing poems on a napkin 
You can't excel without em poking at your passion 
Following your tracks and a force full of has-beens 
If you were so sure morality bounce 
What's the point of sticking round and watching old men drown? 
The dumbest child throwing stones in glass houses 
You wouldn't know a challenge if it found em 

Chorus