All the World is Mad Thrice (dickens254)

^AmWe are saints made of plaster, our laughter is canned We are ^Cmdemons that hide in the mirror But the ^Amblood on our hands Paints a picture exceedingly c^Cmlear ^Eb5

^E7We are ^Ambrimming with cumbersome, murderous greed And ma^Cmlevolence deep and profound. ^AmWe do unspeakable deeds Does our wickedness know any ^Cmbounds?

^EbSomethi^E7ng's gon^Ame terr^Gibly ^Dm7wrong With eve^E7ryo^Amne ^EmAll the ^Gworld is ^Dmmad Dark^E7ness ^Ambrings terri^Gble th^Dm7ings The sun ^E7is ^Amgone ^EmWhat ^Gvan^Dmity! Our sad, wretch^E7ed ^Amfires ^Cm ^Am ^Cm

(like the beginning) We can't medicate man to perfection again We can't legislate peace in our hearts We can't educate sin from our souls It's been there from the start But the blind lead the blind into bottomless pits Still we smile and deny that we’re cursed But of all our iniquities Ignorance may be the worst Something's gone terribly wrong With everyone All the world is mad Darkness brings terrible things The sun is gone Am Fm Am Fm What vanity! Our sad, wretched fires

^AmOh little light ^Gwe ^Fmhave! It only serves ^Gto ^Amshow The snar^Em7es and seeds of ^Gsus4wrath We have al^Abready sewn on every ^Ampath

^AmSomething's gone terr^Gibly ^Dm7wrong With e^E7ver^Amyone ^EmAll the wo^Grld is ^Dmmad Dark^E7ness ^Ambrings terri^Gble th^Dm7ings The sun ^E7is ^Amgone ^EmWhat va^Gnit^Dmy! Our sad, wret^E7ched fir^Ames ^Am ^Ab7

Thrice - All the world is mad