Saintseneca - If only the young die good

^FWaste of a face never ^Gmyours for the ^Bbkeeping ^FSlapped across your ^Bbhead ^FThen with what ^Gmlittle time ^Bbremained ^FSet out to ^Bbforget it

^FYonder would break ^Gmdays plump with ^Bbthunder ^FOf new and glorious ^Bbmorn ^FHours would spill ^GmSouring ^Bbstill ^FDespite our ^Bbadornments for them

^DmAll in good ^Ctime You ^Bbbreak before the ^Flight ^DmSo soaked in ^Cwine It ^Bbdries your will to ^Ffight But ^Dmevery^Cday is ^Bbnever ^Fenough ^DmSucks tucked ^Cin the ^Bbfolds of your ^Fguts ^DmContents ^Cof which ^Bbblaze in your ^Feyes ^DmJesus, I'm ^Cdrunk on this ^Bbspirit tonight

^FIf only the ^Bbgood ones die young ^DmI'd pray your ^Bbcorruption comes ^Fswift like a ^Bbthief in the night ^DmRight I'd pluck my ^Bbright eye right out

^FIf only the ^Bbgood ones die young ^DmI'd pray your ^Bbcorruption comes ^FSwift like a ^Bbthief in the night ^DmRight I'd pluck my ^Bbright eye right out

^FYanked from your slumber What ^Gmominous ^Bbportent ^FDangles in your ^Bbface? ^FRife with sprites ^Gmfalling on ^Bbknives ^FCrowd into your ^Bbgaze ^FWell sight is a sense and ^Gmin your ^Bbdefense One ^FI might liken ^Bbto ^FThe manner in which you ^Gmtouch what you ^Bbclutch ^FOr the way that the wind touches ^Bbyou

^FIf only the ^Bbgood ones die young ^DmI'd pray your ^Bbcorruption comes ^FSwift like a ^Bbthief in the night ^DmRight I'd pluck my ^Bbright eye right out

^FIf only the ^Bbyoung ones die good ^DmI'd pray your ^Bbcorruption would ^FSlip like a ^Bbslit in the wrist ^DmHack the hands, re^Bbdeem the rest