Vices Dead Poetic
[Am]Feeling cold, fe[F]eling empty. Set the[C] stage, where you w[G]ant me.
[Am]And this crowd righ[F]t before me doesn?t [C]care that I?m dying[G].
[Am]And the audience stands[F] with thei[C]r eyes fixed on the preconceive[G]d version of me.
[Am]I?m so betrayed by your ho[F]pes, but I will not[C] hide mys[G]elf for your peace of mind.
Chorus 1:
[Am]Oh, but Child. I[F]?ve got Vices like a[C]ny other man.
Verse2: (same Chords as verse 1)
Raise a boy to a cynic. Take his love, and then let it turn into something passionate.
Something sick, something rabid.
And I vent to keep myself from caving. I don?t hate you, I just hate where I?m heading.
I?m left here asking, when did I trade in my bleeding heart for a selfish win?
Chorus 2:
[Am]Oh, but Mother. [F]I?ve got Vices like [C]any other man.
[Am]Vices that you?[F]re not used to. Vic[C]es that?l[G]l make you think less of me.
Verse 3:
Leave me numb. Leave me jaded. She?s a dream, I just play dead.
I?ve been blessed, I?ve been hated. She?s the constant, and I?m her addict.
She?s the only peace in this world, uneasy.
While I bite my tongue to keep from breaking the heart that I?ve spent my whole life seeking.
The only heart I?ve ever needed.
Chorus 3:
[Am]Oh, but Lover. I?ve got Vi[F]ces like any other [C]man.[G]
[Am]Vices that you?re not used[F] to. Vi[C]ces that?ll[G] make you think...
[Am]Oh, but Lover. I?ve got Vi[F]ces like any other [C]man.[G]
[Am]Vices that you?re not used[F] to. Vic[C]es that?ll [G]make you think less of me. Less of me.
Verse 4:
Feeling cold, feeling empty. I am low, unworthy.
Bleed the God. Bleed the blessing. Like a vulture feasting.
I?ll exist as if I don?t feel conviction of my ignorance to my perfect prison.
But I feel the stabs on my wrists and ankles every time I try...
To forget [Am]you. [F]
To forget y[C]ou.[G]
Chorus 4
[Am]Oh, but Jesus. I?ve got Vi[F]ces like any o[C]ther man.[G]
[Am]Vices that you?re s[F]o used to. Vice[C]s that won?t [G]make you think less of m[Am]e.
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