Standard (EADGBE)

The President’s dead, the radio said

 Dear friends is it not so horrible?

 A shock to my heart like a knife right through bread,

 The newspaper said, the President’s dead.

The sea doesn’t dry and the sky doesn’t split,

 But friends it just seems so wrong, don’t it?

 A shout from the crowd and a shot to the head,

 The President’s lying on the tarmac dead.

He’s lying face down with those black dress day gents,

 Guns drawn running around in the early o-bits,

 Say he was a good man, you can’t argue with that,

 Not today you can’t, not now you can’t.

In the media tent, where they spin and they slant,

 They just foam at the mouth and they chomp at the bit,

 Those bloodsuckers can wait, ‘till those vultures cool it,

 The radio said, the President’s dead,

And let’s imagine the day, let’s say 30 years in,

 How somebody will say what were you doing when,

 On a beautiful day I was waking up and

 I was lying in bed with my girlfriend

And the eggs on the plate and the bacon hissing

 And the coffee was great, these was spring on the wind,

 If you ever lived through a day where the littlest things,

 in the littlest ways, made you feel you were blest.

And if you died right then, well you know you’d be missed,

 But there’s no better way to cease to exist,

 And you wouldn’t feel sad and you wouldn’t resist,

 Because you knew what you had and were thankful for it,

In your own little way, well I’m a small quiet man,

 I’ve got no wars to win, I don’t have a big plan,

 But I love my new place and I love my old friends,

 And I scrimp and I save and one day I’ll have kids,

I can truthfully say that my day was like that,

 ‘till the radio playing on the stand by the bed,

 fired out this report and in three words they said,

 Like three shots to my head, the President’s dead.

 The President’s dead.

 The President’s dead.