The Tragically Hip - Poets

Sp^Cmring starts when a heartbeat's poundin' Wh^Fen the birds can be heard above the reckonin' car^Cmts doin' some final accountin' ^F La^Cmva flowin' in Superfarmer's direction He^F's been gettin' reprieve from the heat in the fro^Cmzen food section, yea^Fh

Don^Cm't tell me what the p^Bboets are doin' Don^Cm't tell me that they're t^Bbalking tough Don^Cm't tell me that they're an^Bbti-social Som^Cmehow not anti-soc^Bbial enough, all right

And ^Cmporn speaks to its splintered legions To ^Fthe pink amid the withered cornstalks in them wi^Cmnter regions (Yeah) ^F Whi^Cmle aimin' at the archetypal father He ^Fsaid with such broad and tentative swipes, "Why do yo^Cmu even bother?" (Yeah^F)

Don^Cm't tell me what the poe^Bbts are doin' Tho^Cmse Himalayas of the mi^Bbnd Don^Cm't tell me what the po^Bbets been doin' In ^Cmthe long grasses ov^Bber time

Don^Cm't tell me what the poe^Bbts are doin' On ^Cmthe street and the ep^Bbitome of vague Don^Cm't tell me how the u^Bbniverse is altered Whe^Cmn you find out how h^Bbe gets paid, all right

If^Cm there's nothing more th^Ebat ya need now The la^Fwn cut by bare-bre^Bbasted women Be^Cmach bleached towels w^Ebithin reach for the wo^Fmen Got to ma^Bbke it, that'll make it by swimmin' ^Cm