Brown Bird - The Messenger

      (Title:THE MESSENGER)
 
[Em]There are fleeting fits of reason between the [Am]sleeping and the drinks
Where a [B7]million different sensory [Em]experiences blink
[Em]And it’s there within the momentary [Am]darkness you can breathe
[Cmaj7]Be a form without [B7]reflection or [Em]debris
 
[Em]There are bloody bouts of tenderness [Am]against the bonds of fear
Facing [B7]combat everlasting, vultures [Em]circle ever near
[Em]Now they’re placing bets deciding who will [Am]be the first to feast
[Cmaj7]We can flood the battle[B7]field with something [Em]weak
 
[Am]Barrel chested bankers buying [Em]billboards by the score
[Am]Placing all their eggs in baskets [B7]made of future funeral wars
[Em]Now their children fight in microcosmic [Am]mirrors of their game
[Cmaj7]And the messenger will [B7]always be to [Em]blame
 
[Em]There are centuries of seasons turning [Am]white to green to brown
Cycling [B7]through each sort of sequence, turning [Em]temperaments around
[Em]These incessant spinning seasons making [Am]dizzy all our days
[Cmaj7]We’ll succumb to something [B7]stranger [Em]anyway
[Cmaj7]Some disaster in a [B7]story ending brand new [Em]day
 
[Am]Barrel chested bankers buying [Em]billboards by the score
[Am]Placing all their eggs in baskets [B7]made of future funeral wars
[Em]Now their children fight in microcosmic [Am]mirrors of their game
[Cmaj7]And the messenger will [B7]always be to [Em]blame
[Cmaj7]And the messenger will [B7]always be to [Em]blame