These Few Presidents
W.H.Y.Version1
90
Chords in this song
Strum
D-DU-UDU
C
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----2-----2-----|----3-----3-----|
0-----0-0---0-2-|3-3---3-3---3-2-| x4
At your house the smell of our still living human bodies and oven gas
You pray to nothing out loud
Two first names and an ampersand embroidered proudly on a kitchen towel
You're a beautiful and violent work with the skinny neck of a Chinese bird
in a fading ancient painting.
And if you're in heaven waiting you made it there fighting
the tightest kite string in a bad storm with lightning.
And now these few presidents frowning in my pocket
can persuade no god to let me let you talk.
And now these few presidents frowning in my pocket
can persuade no god to let me let you off.
Even though I haven't seen you in years
yours is a funeral I'd fly to from anywhere.
I thought I had a pebble in my sock
I pulled it off and shook out a wasp
It stumbled out lost and without a pause
unstung as I was, still I stomped it.
I thought "There is no paved street worthy
of your perfect Scandinavian feet."
My crooked chinese fingers groped
the machinery of your throat.
Repeat Chorus, end on "anywhere."
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Readable chord sheet for These Few Presidents by W.H.Y.
[Em] [C] ----------------|----------------| ----------------|----------------| ----------------|----------------| ----------------|----------------| ----2-----2-----|----3-----3-----| 0-----0-0---0-2-|3-3---3-3---3-2-| x4 [G]At your house the smell of our [D]still living human bodies and oven [C]gas You pray to nothing out loud [G]Two first names and an a[Em]mpersand embroidered [C]proudly on a kitchen towel You're a [G]beautiful and violent w[D]ork with the skinny[C] neck of a [D]Chinese bird in a [G]fading ancient p[D]ainting. And if y[Em]ou're in heaven w[C]aiting you made it there [G]fighting the tightest kit[D]e string in a bad storm with lig[C]htning. [D] And now [Em]these few [G]presidents [C/E]frowning in my poc[Em/G]ket [C]can pers[Em/B]uade no god [D]to let[C] me let[G/B] you talk.[D] And now [Em]these few [G]presidents [C/E]frowning in my poc[Em/G]ket [C]can pers[G/B]uade no g[D]od to [C]let me [G/B]let you of[D]f. [G]Even though I haven't se[D]en you in years [C]yours is a funeral I'd f[D]ly to from a[Em]nywhere. [D] [C] [G]I thought I had a pebble in[D] my sock [Em]I pulled it off and s[C]hook out a wasp It [G]stumbled out lost and w[D]ithout a pause un[Em]stung as I was, still I s[C]tomped it. I [Em]thought "There is no paved street[C] worthy of your [Em]perfect Scandinavian [C]feet." [Em]My crooked chinese finge[C]rs groped [Em] the machinery o[C]f your throat. [D] Repeat Chorus, end on "a[Em]nywhere."