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You may be sitting outside, now, just feeling like you're bullet proof Turns out you
ain't doing a god damn thing, brown-bagging outside of that telephone booth
All the times it seems so hard, just to get your hands upon the pouring rain
Soon as you feel yourself crawl back up, you're on your way back down again
C#mYou just pray with me, lost daughters and sons
EDrink a little, smoke before the bFarrel of theG gun
C#mThem troubles outside of my door
EThere ain't no way to add them up there's going to Fbe so many Gmore.
C#mYou just stay with me lost daughters and sons.
EAin't nobody leaving until this Fbottle is Gdone
C#mThem troubles outside of my door
EThere ain't no way to add them up there's going toF be.
There's going to Gbe, there's
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