The War Criminal Rises And Speaks Chords

Standard (EADGBE)

C G Am F Dm G Dm F G

The last two chords don't hold out for the full four-count. There

are two instances where this progression gets cut in half. The first

is when the song starts to climax and the last is at the end. When

this happens, play:

C G Am F G

 The heart wants to Cfeel.

 The heart wants to Ghold.

 The heart takes past AmSubway,

past Stop and Shop,past Beal's,

 and calls it "coming hoFme."

 The heart wants a traDmil

 away from "alonGe,"

 so the heart turns a sDmale

 into a weFll-worn milGestone

towards hard-won soft furniture,

fought-for fast food,

defended end table that

holds paperbacks and back U.S. News.

The mind turns an itch

into a bruise,

and the hands start to twitch

when they're feeling ill-used.

And you're almost back now,

you can see by the signs;

from the bank you tell the temperature

and then the time,

and the billboard reads some headlines.

The head wants to turn,

to avert both its eyes,

but the mind wants to learn

of some truth that might be

inside reported crimes.

So they found a lieutenant

who killed a village of kids.

After finishing off the wives,

he wiped off his knife

and that's what he did.

And they're not claiming that

there's any excusing it;

that was thirty years back,

and they just get paid for the facts

the way they got them in.

 Now he's rising and Cnot denying.

 His hands are shaking, but Ghe's not crying.

 And he's saying 'How Amdid I climb

 out of a life so boring iFnto that moment?

 Please sGtop ignoring the hCeart inside,

 oh you readers at Ghome!

 While you gasp at my Ambloody crimes,

please take the time

 to make your heart my Fhome:

 where I'm forgDmiven by time,

 where I'm cushioned by Ghope,

 where I'm numbed by Dmlong drives,

 where I'm talked off or Fdoped.G

 Does the heart wants to Catone?

Oh, I believe that it's so,

because if I could climb back through time,

I'd restore their lives and then give back my own:

tens of times now its size

on a far distant road

in a far distant time

where every night I'm still crying,

entirely alone.'

AmBut the news today alwaysG fades away as you driAmve by,

 until at dFinnertime when you lCook into her eGyes,

 lit by eFvening sun - that, as uGsual, comes

 from aCbove that straight, unbCroBken linAme,

 the horizGon

 - its riAmsing G

 is a gCiveCn,B Am

 just like your livingG.

Your heart's warm and kind.

Your mind is your own.

Our blood-spattered criminal

is inscrutable;

don't worry, he won't

rise up behind your eyes

and take wild control.

He's not of this time,

he fell out of a hole.