Stained Glass Ceilings(Chords)

	        
Verse 1:
  
               E 
Like a burning monk 
                                 C#m 
You're my light flare out in the dark 
                           G#m 
You're my constant call to arms 
  
Took the blindfold off 
       A                                            E 
They'd left chalk outlines where the future was 
                      C#m 
It's a goddamn war of attrition 
                           G#m 
It's a death by a thousand cuts 
                                      A 
And if these motherfuckers made it to heaven 
  
They burned the bridge when they got across 
   
 
 
                  E 
They're gathering anchors 
                  B 
They're gathering rope 
              A 
You push into heaven all alone 
                      E 
They're grabbing your ankles 
                   B 
They won't let you go 
                A 
The ebb and the distant flow 
                     B 
They're cutting your wings off 
                          A 
Built you ceilings out of stained glass 

  
 
Verse 2:
 
         E                     C#m 
Well you cut like gravel in my skinned knee 
                      G#m 
The wound will close eventually 
                   A                                   E 
You'll stay as a reminder of how fucked this world can be 
                       C#m 
Held your funeral on a Tuesday 
                      G#m 
Holy waters, November cold 
                       A 
The kid who pulled the trigger 
  
Knew tomorrow couldn't promise him hope 
   
 
 
          E                      B 
All these bastards are gathering rope 
              A 
You push into heaven all alone 
                      E 
They're grabbing your ankles 
                   B 
They won't let you go 
                A 
The ebb and the distant flow 
                     B 
They're cutting your wings off 
                           A 
Built your ceilings out of stained glass 
                       B 
They were cutting your wings off 
      A 
I was staring at my idle hands 
                      C#m 
Maybe I could've done something 
                        A 
Maybe I could've made a difference 

  
( B  A  B  A ) 
( B  A  B  A ) 
  
Bridge:
  
C#m                      A 
John Wayne with a God complex Tells me to buy a gun 
                        E 
Like shooting a teenage kid is gonna solve any problems  
  
Like it's an arms race 
                               C#m 
Like death don't mean nothing 
                                  A 
To know the heavy price of living poor 
                                      E 
Walled in by red lines, backed into a corner 
  
Not knowing growing up what it's like to belong here in America 
    
              C#m                                        A 
If everyone's built the same then how come building's so fucking hard for you? 
                     E 
It's something we're all born into  
               C#m 
Nothing's left up to gray 
                        A 
It's black or white and sometimes black and blue 
                     E                   B 
It's something we're all born into, whoa-oh 
C#m 
Now I know what's in a name 
  
Not just my father 
      A 
Three-fifths a man makes half of me 
  
Why should I bother? 
   
E                                B 
Merchants of misery stacking the deck 
  
Fuck your John Waynes 
  
Fuck your God complex 
  
       C#m 
I have everything in front of me 
                     A 
But can't reach far enough 
  
To touch those fever dreams 
               E 
They call America 
  
I am the ghetto's chosen one 
                       B 
The privileged bastard son 
   
Final 
  
                  C#m 
They're gathering anchors 
                  B 
They're gathering rope 
              A 
You push into heaven all alone 
                  E 
They're gathering anchors 
                  B 
They're gathering rope 
              A 
You push into heaven all alone 
  
No, all alone 
   
Final C#m
	        

Written by Matthew Brasch/Daniel Jason Campbell/Kenneth Alrich Cavaliere/Michael Kennedy/Joshua James Martin/Nicholas Steinborn