C G Am F

      C                 G
As he lights an American spirit
  Am              F
He asks how I can smoke such shit


C G Am F


[Verse]

  C                       G
I say there's nothing like chain smoking
Am     F
G-P-C cigarettes.
   C                G
Cuz any smokes will kill ya
    Am                 F
But these will make you feel like it.
Am          C
I sit back down,
      G              Dm
on the parking lot curb
Am                   C
And remember back to February
G             Dm
The trip to Hartford
   C             G
And five minutes ago
      Am                 F
He was passed out on the staircase
C                  G
Trying to walk to his apartment
Am                F
but not making it all the way.
C               G
  And now he's driving us
   Am            F
100 miles an hour down the interstate
C       G
Another beer in his hand
Am                   F
Swearin' we won't be late.
Am                            C
That was before everyone moved to New Mexico.
Am              C
They all left a couple   of months ago
Am         C          G     Dm
Until the day my friend
      Am           C             G          Dm
When I sleep on the floor of your van again
Am               C                 G       Dm
I'll be waiting in this parking lot,
         Am     C     G            Am             C
and in my dreams, I am dirty broke, beautiful, and free.
Dm          Am                C                        G      Am
   My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after hitching to
    C
many miles.


[Verse]
(Not really sure what's played here, I just play C G Am F twice over, which fits nicely)

Am        C        G     Dm   Am     C       G         Dm
We aren't revolutionaries,    but we are the revolution.
       Am                  C                  G               Dm
And sometimes I think that the whole movement is just me and you
     Am            C             G              Dm
And maybe we'd all be better off if that was true
    Am                C             G       Dm
Cuz then we'd at least know where we stand
    Am                C                      G        Dm
And we could tell our comrades apart from the man
    C              G
but if the world isn't that simple
Am                     F
Maybe this town is at least
    C                       G                Am                 F
And if I'm not marching with them for war I'm sure not marching with you for peace
C      G       Am           F
Class traitor? What fucking ever!
   C             G           Am           F
I'm just another middle class kid, too.
    C                 G             Am           F
But if I'm not good at changing, I'm good at self loathing


[Verse]

   C         G                Am           F
So I'll class hate myself with you.
Am                      C
May our only occupation be not having a job
Am                          C
And may the only cocktails that we make be molotov
Am        C        G Dm       Am                C            G           Dm
May that day be now,      and for as many days after that as we know how
Am            C            G       Dm
It starts in this parking lot,
          Am    C      G          Am
and in my dreams, I am dirty broke beautiful
   C    Dm         Am                C                        G
and free. My hands clenched in a fist, and my face in a smile, after
Am                C
hitching too many miles.