Post Graduation Oblivion Walter Mitty and His Makeshift Orchestra
I lied about my [G]major to a stranger on the bus.
I'm pretty [C]sure I'm aging poorly and I surely peaked too early.
I'm [G]about to greet my bitter end, craving the estrogen and
[C]minimum comfort. But I can't afford it.
[G]My head's in Oregon, my feet in California.
I [C]prefer my chest pains over my daily headaches.
I've [G]outgrown most that I've known, and I'm scared to reminisce,
so I bel[C]ieve in nothing, and never felt this
[G]uncertain of anything in my life.
All panic [C]aside, I actually kinda like it.
My canvas is the [G]Void. I paint meaning on the meaningless
all damn [C]day? But that gets lonesome, and therein lies your
[Am]right to occupy my [D]bedroom.
I promise that I [G]won't make trouble I'll just [C]listen.
Tell me about your [Am]family, tell me your role [D]models,
and tell me how your [G]caught up working towards the [C]wrong goals.
And tell me do you [Am]notice this blistering [D]bliss apparent in our
[G]thoughts? Maybe you don?t,[Em] but I do.
[C]And after it I'm a [D]sucker feeling sorry for ever[G]yone.
G...
Cheer up Para[C]dise.
I won't [G]let it drain the passion from our [C]lives. [G]
Quit your pity [C]sighs.
Oh I've [G]got this funny feeling we'll be [C]fine
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