This Blackest Purse

Intro G# G#sus2 G# G#sus2 G# G#sus2 F#maj7 C#maj7 [Verso 1] G# G#sus2 I'm not who, with my eyes from stage I claim to be G# G#sus2 I've only cradled death in my own ending G# G#sus2 Flesh from far off and abstracted lit Fm7 C#maj7 Candle wick flickering G# G#sus2 And when a thing starts finishing around me G# G#sus2 I faint or fake a mustache, an accent, or flee G# G#sus2 Fm7 C#maj7 In fear my expired license be pulled by sheer proximity [Pré-Refrão] G# Cm/G Fact: the poseur in the bowler gets shot first Fm7 Thinks he's the shit 'cause he can spit and curse C#maj7 Acting brash and flashing a pistol that squirts Scowling, and shouting, "Shall we dance?" [Refrão] G# Cm/G Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse? Fm7 Mom, am I failing, or worse? C#maj7 Mom, am I failing? (Mom, am I failing?) Fm What should these earnest hands be holding? [Verso 2] G# G#sus2 Still sporting my ex-girlfriend's dead ex-boyfriend's boxers G# G#sus2 I want to operate from a base of hunger G# G#sus2 No longer be ashamed and hide my Fm7 C#maj7 Tears in shower water, while I lather for pleasure G# G#sus2 I want to speak at an intimate decibel G# G#sus2 With the precision of an infinite decimal G# G#sus2 To listen up and send back a true echo Fm7 Of something forever felt but never heard C#maj7 I want that sharpened steel of truth in every word [Pré-Refrão] G# The small fry in the bow-tie dies first Cm/G Fm7 Acting wild, like the spirit of God moving after church C#maj7 Faking he's hard like he's packed down dirt Already, and yelling, "Be my guest!" [Refrão] G# Cm/G Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse? Fm7 Mom, am I failing or worse? C#maj7 Mom, am I failing? (Mom, am I failing?) Fm What should these earnest hands be holding? G# Cm/G Should our hero's hands be holding this blackest purse? Fm7 Mom, am I failing or worse? C#maj7 Mom, am I failing? (Mom, am I failing?) Fm What should these earnest hands be holding? Outro G# G#sus2 G# G#sus2 G# G#sus2 F#maj7 C#maj7