Band: Woodbox Gang VERSE 1 Dm G Dm Troubles, I know troubles, troubles are what I know best Dm G Dm Not the kind that make you a rebel, just the kind that make you depressed Dm G Dm Confidential conversation spoken without hesitation half a decibel above silently Dm G Dm Violently or quietly I invite them in sighingly, everyone confides in me CHORUS F C G Like a dirty sponge soaking up the misery of the world C F I guess someone's got to wipe their filthy mouth F C Dm An ugly sponge, heavy, full of dirt and ugly words Dm A Dm And it's about to wring me out VERSE 2 I used to have bigger ears and more years to see the tears And to hear the fears of my fellow man Now it is the opposite, I think those folks are full of sh*t And I find it hard to give a good goddamn VERSE 3 Wring me out and get me clean in a metaphorical washing machine Kerosene, bleach, and alcohol I'm constipated with this hatred and if I was God I would have made it Impossible to speak or hear at all
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