Dept. of False Hope Bad Religion
Welcome, my son,
To where the w[A]ork is never done
And the h[F#]ungry are seldom ever f[G]ed.
The de[Bm]partment of false hope
Is a pr[A]oving ground for dopes.
And they'll gr[D]ind your tiny bones to make their b[E]re[F#]ad. (Hosanna.)
[G]So hold your h[D]ead up high, forg[A]otten man.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]Tomorrow w[D]on't be made for y[A]ou.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]And everybody's g[D]otta try to lend a h[A]elping hand.[F#] [C#] [D]
For god and m[G]an, there's n[A]othing more to d[D]o.
[Bm]It crackled on the radio
Through br[A]ight plumes of the sun.
The ann[F#]ouncer said the age of faith was de[G]ad.
Though the [Bm]adolescent nation
Was just l[A]ooking for salvation,
The be[D]ast of reason reared its ugly [E]he[F#]ad. (Hosanna.)
[G]So hold your he[D]ad up high, forg[A]otten man.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]Tomorrow's n[D]ot for me and y[A]ou.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]And everybody's g[D]otta try to lend a h[A]elping hand.[F#] [C#] [D]
For god and m[G]an, there's n[A]othing more to do[D].
[Bm]
[A]
[F#] [G]
[Bm]
[A]
[D] [E] [F#]
From your cr[G]adle of destruction,
With the p[A]oorest of instruction
And the [Bm]merest s[A]liver of a t[G]une,
Oh, you m[F#]anaged somehow to muddle through.[C#] [D]
[G]So hold your h[D]ead up high, forg[A]otten man.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]Tomorrow's n[D]ot for me and y[A]ou.[F#] [C#] [D]
[G]And everybody's g[D]otta try to lend a h[A]elping hand.[F#] [C#] [D]
For god and m[G]an, there's no[A]thing more to do[D].[Bm]
[G]There is n[A]othing more...
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