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Transcribed by Mike Hiltonwood

G   Bb  F  Ab  F  Ab  F  G

G              F
my pocket don't drive me fast
G                   F
my mother treats me slow
G                F 
My statues got a concrete heart
G                      F
but you're the coldest bitch I know

G   Bb  F  Ab  F  Ab  F  G

In the factory that you call your mind
Graveyard thoughts of stone
A master thief I wouldn't enter there
You're nothing I would care to own

You're pretending that you've got it made
I know you know no truths
You're still serving cookies and Kool-aid
You're so proper and so cute.