Intro: Em D | C Em D Joker man takes off his mask C Reveals a car salesman and at last, says Em D Grow up, son, you know its just a masquerade, now C Be a good boy and get me and the boss a Gatorade" Em D You can work up quite a thirst C Watchin' all them bubbles burst Em D I was following Ghandi on the twitter C He tweeted Son, I dont like to see you bitter Em D But if you wanna get in this kind of shape C Well, its abstinence and a protein shake Em D Or you could lose your appetite C Watching wrong pass for right Em D Yeah, you could lose your appetite C Watching wrong pass for right Em D Save me a place at the bar C Bobby Dylan was selling cars Em D All hail the stripes and the stars C Bobby Dylan, was selling cars Em D Voyeurs, critics, bloggers, vultures C Pick their percentage off the carcass of the culture Em D In Rome we fiddled as corporations C Pull out to other nations, give Mother Earth a facial Em D All men are created equal, more or less C Free to negotiate a sequel, God bless! Em D Dont call me a hypocrite, naive C You can take as good as given, still believe Em D Mo-Town slim pictures of Lucky 7 C While the believin' Pete Seeger has to hitch his way to heaven Em D Oh, I have learned the victors secrets C You can show panties and still remain a Jesus Em D Save me a place at the bar C Bobby Dylan was selling cars Em D All hail the stripes and the stars C Bobby Dylan, was selling cars F#m C#m I dont wanna B C#m Complain F#m G#m But this whole world C#m G#m F#m Seems strange A E F#m The writing on the wall, I think A C D Was written to disappear in ink Em D Im sure your morals are beyond reproach C But its not like Im asking you to fly coach Em D I know its uncool not to be ironic C And I know that youre bulletproof iconic Em D I really shouldnt be throwin' stones, no C Cause chasing spooks on Fox I made my bones Em D Were all guilty of sin C Comes up and force someone to keep from gettin' in Em D Those who used to hustle ho C Fashion the nooses now out of a velvet rope Em D But I guess theres nothin' much to do C Cause only you can write the song that gets to you Em D I guess theres nothing much to do C Cause only you can write the song that gets to you Em D Save me a place at the bar C Bobby Dylan was selling cars Em D Well, I guess I should be goin' Em D Aw, shit, is that Leonard Cohen?