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We wiped out all the CBuffalo
Around the turn of the last A#mcentury,
And so it's Ffactories and sawgrass,
Wheat fields and asphalt laid in Gfront of me.
The Midwest feels like a hCollow place
That we filled with love and A#mindustry.
And we're Fstaring at the frozen ground in Goodwill suits,
GSilent as the pastor reads the eulogy.
WellF I wanted toG see just a lA#mittle Gbit of Feverything.
Let me Gbe.
Two blackbirds on a Chighway Fsign
Are laughing at A#mme at four in the Gmorning.
They played the war drum Cout of Ftime
So I'm A#mnot sure where I've been mGarching.
I wanna be A#mstrong, but it's not Feasy anymore.
I'm hoping I'm wroCng. G F
It's sixteen hours Cstraight to home
From the heart of North A#mMissouri,
And so I Fsearched through my great-grandpop's memoirs
For the devil in my Gbloodstream.
Depression grabbed his tChroat
And choked the life out of him A#mslowly.
I've got the Fsame blood coursing through my veins
And it'll come for me eGventually.
I bet I'd be a fucking Ccoward.
I bet I'd never have the A#mguts for war,
'Cause I can'tF spend another month away from here.
These Gfrantic rest stop phone calls don't get answered anymore.
But FI, I wanted to Gknow if I could A#mplease Gcome Fhome.
So let me kGnow.
Two blackbirds on a Chighway Fsign
Are laughing at A#mme at four in the Gmorning.
They played the war drum Cout of Ftime
So I'm A#mnot sure where I've been Gmarching.
I wanna be A#mstrong, C but it's not Feasy anymore.
I'm hoping I'm wrCong. G F
I'm hoping I'm wrCong. G F
CGF
Two blackbirds on a Chighway Fsign
Are laughing at A#mme at four in the Gmorning
They played the war drum Cout of Ftime
So I'm A#mnot sure where I've been Gmarching.
I wanna be sA#mtrong. C F
I wanna be sCtrong, buGt it's not eFasy anymore.
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