| G | |
| Oh sister, don't be afraid of me |
| I won't be nailing you down in the nursery |
| C | |
| Just like the rest of them did |
| With those watery, wandering fingers that slipped |
| G | C | G | |
| That were supposed to be | glorious and fi | ne |
| G | |
| Oh sister, won't you believe in me |
| I only wanted to be hard on your family |
| C | |
| Here with you now in the zillionth infirmary |
| A mother makes frantic and drunk calls from Germany |
| G | C | G | |
| All of the t | im | e |
| G | |
| And oh sister |
| Sweet brown and comely |
| I will be be milking with you making fun of me |
| C | |
| Now that my moods are not what the used to be |
| there is but no one alive laying next to me |
| G | C | G | |
| for such a long t | im | e |
| G | |
| Oh sister, sweet brown and beulahry |
| milk from your blisters on your grandmother's jewelry |
| C | |
| there in the parlor all naked in front of me |
| G | C | G | |
| Watching the lights from the cracks making archery | animal des | ign | s |
| Em | C | |
| Rose Wallace Goldeline just mo | ves her mouth over anything |
| G | D | |
| Fleshy free and flowering with ora | nges out in the open |
| Em | |
| But don't you waste your sins again |
| C | |
| She don't need you |
| or won't fuck your friends |
| G | D | |
| And you, you're American, so imp | ortant boiling over |
| Em | |
| To prove that she must still exist |
| C | |
| she moves herself about her fist |
| G | |
| and never ever ever give a shit |
| D | |
| about all those words you're wasting again |
| Em | C | G | |
| Some pret | ty bright and bubbly | wondrous dream |
| D | |
| You'd like to | kill and claim |
| And claim her as your own |
| Em | |
| But don't you worry |
| C | G | D | |
| All those dainty and dir | ty emotions just g | o away and fade out on their own |
| G | |
| Sister, now that we're grieving |
| Our fingers will falter |
| Our lungs will be leaking |
| C | |
| All over each other and without even speaking |
| We'll know that it's over and smiling or greeting |
| G | C | G | |
| Whatever comes ne | xt |
| G | |
| And oh sister |
| You're getting married with some angry twister |
| C | |
| That you'll have to carry home dr | unk every evening from the cemetery |
| And if he makes it back half alive you can bury him |
| G | C | G | |
| Under your she | ets |
| G | |
| And oh sister |
| now that we're leaving |
| I can not imagine there is any meaning |
| C | |
| forgetting you ever could once had the feeling that made you keep on |
| G | C | G | |
| and pretend you were breathing of | all of this w | orl | d |
| In an age of empty rings |
| D | C | |
| I don't want to feel the th | ing |
| G | C | G | |
| I don't even want to k | now |
| D | |
| and Rose Wallace Goldel | ine |
| C | |
| don't you ever die on | me |
| G | |
| all the way it goes and fl | ows |