Am E Am E

Am
Nettles on my saddle and a badge on my vest, better bet I’ll never settle and I never could rest
                                           N.C.
Till the sunrise dies and sets in the west, a rattlesnake bite and a bullet in my chest
        Dm                                               Am
I won’t stop to drop to draw a line in the sand, ‘cause I’ll be picked apart to pieces by coyotes
       Dm                                                  E
I’m a lizard in the hand of the medicine man who is the wizard of the land on wild peyote. Woah


[Chorus]
 Am                          E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, I’m taking action
 Am                           E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, I’m gaining traction
Am                           E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, no more distractions
          F     E                       Am
I’m done relaxing. I am a chemical reaction


Am
Bienvenidos a la villa de arañas españas,

where the sentimental value of the city around you

is deleted obsolete and still completely will stun you
    N.C.
I’m tripping like a klutz and I’m rolling like thunder
      Dm                                         Am
I’m a snot nosed pothead playing with matches, a rotten spot of mold with my hands on a cactus
  Dm                                      E
My mouth is dry and my eyes are red, I’m chewing on sand ‘cause the desert’s in my head


[Chorus]
 Am                          E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, I’m taking action
 Am                           E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, I’m gaining traction
Am                           E
Aye aye, I eye my eyes, no more distractions
          F     E                       Am
I’m done relaxing. I am a chemical reaction

[Solo]
E Am E Am
E Am E F E

G

C                    E           F                    Fm
Wretch and pule this panoramic, stretched out view is fat with panic
C            E                   F                     Fm               G
Precognition lacks in hindsight, we caught the illness back before the twilight
C             E                    F               Fm
I might be a saint worth steeples, I might be the brain of evil
C                     E            F          Fm         C
Bad things happen to good people, good things happen to me