Vices Dead Poetic [Am]Feeling cold, fe[F]eling empty. Set the[C] stage, where you w[G]ant me. [Am]And this crowd righ[F]t before me doesn?t [C]care that I?m dying[G]. [Am]And the audience stands[F] with thei[C]r eyes fixed on the preconceive[G]d version of me. [Am]I?m so betrayed by your ho[F]pes, but I will not[C] hide mys[G]elf for your peace of mind. Chorus 1: [Am]Oh, but Child. I[F]?ve got Vices like a[C]ny other man. Verse2: (same Chords as verse 1) Raise a boy to a cynic. Take his lov (guitaretab.com)