Boil My Strings The Gourds
Boil my Strings
[A]Living down he[D]re[A]
they [D]throw me down and [A]count me
Iā??m making this[D] u[A]p
it [D]keeps my feathers [A]clean
And the [E]black boys they [D]kick my ass and [A]tell me
That the [E]wom[E7]en their ruby lips are [A]dry
(Chorus)
I get [E]angry I get [A]sad
And I [E]lose that sweetness that I used to [A]have
And I [E]boil my strings
To bring them back to [A]gol[E]d
Bring them back to [A]gol[E]d
[E7]Bring them back to go[A]ld
(second verse)
Sleeping in here, they give me plenty to eat
Donā??t make trouble, make something with concrete
So I fill my pipes with it to break them black boys heads
Lord I wish I had a gun, I wish I had a gun
Chorus
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