Bright Eyes - Light pollution

^GJohn ^DA Hobson was a good man ^Amhe use^Cd to loan me books and mic stands ^Ghe ev^Den got me a subscription ^Amto the^C Socialist Review ^Gliste^Dning to records in his basement ^Amold fo^Clk songs about the government ^G"^D;it's love of money, not the market," ^Amhe sai^Cd, "these fuckers push on you. ^Gand f^Dreedom yells, it dont cry. ^Gwhate^Dver sells will decide. ^Gbut t^Dhere is no hell when you die. so^Am dont look so worried." ^Ghe go^Dt a night life, lost his day job ^Ampushin^Cg paper, swinging pendulums ^Ganyth^Ding to serve a function ^Amor to ^Coccupy some time ^Gyou h^Dave got to earn this living somehow ^Amyou ar^Ce good as dead without a bank account ^Gbut i^Dt is funny how alive he felt down ^Amin tha^Ct unemployment line ^Gwith ^Dall the trash at his feet ^Gthe p^Dools of piss in the street ^Gall o^Df that filthy empathy fo^Amr the way we're feeling

^Gthe b^Dillboards shade, the flags they wave ^Amthe an^Cthem was playing loud ^Gthe b^Daseball game was letting out ^Amthen a^Cll at once he saw the dust ^Gand h^Deard every tiny sound ^Amgot in^C his truck and turned around ^Gdrove^D out through the crowd and the cops ^Amdrove ^Cout past that center mall ^Gdrove^D out past that sickening sprawl ^Amout pa^Cst that fenced in gold ^Gand m^Daybe he lost control ^Gfucki^Dng with the radio ^Gbut i^D bet the stars seemed so close at^Am the end