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Dead Poetic - Vices chords

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Am              F                   C                  G
Feeling cold, feeling empty. Set the stage, where you want me.
Am                 F                   C                  G
And this crowd right before me doesnít care that Iím dying.
Am                     F         C                              G
And the audience stands with their eyes fixed on the preconceived version of me.
Am                        F                  C        G
Iím so betrayed by your hopes, but I will not hide myself for your peace of mind.

Chorus 1:

Am              F                   C                  
Oh, but Child. Iíve got Vices like any other man.

Verse2: (same Chords as verse 1)

Raise a boy to a cynic. Take his love, and then let it turn into something passionate.
Something sick, something rabid.
And I vent to keep myself from caving. I donít hate you, I just hate where Iím heading.
Iím left here asking, when did I trade in my bleeding heart for a selfish win?

Chorus 2:

Am              F                   C        
Oh, but Mother. Iíve got Vices like any other man.
Am             F                  C        G
Vices that youíre not used to. Vices thatíll make you think less of me.

Verse 3:

Leave me numb. Leave me jaded. Sheís a dream, I just play dead.
Iíve been blessed, Iíve been hated. Sheís the constant, and Iím her addict.
Sheís the only peace in this world, uneasy.
While I bite my tongue to keep from breaking the heart that Iíve spent my whole life seeking.
The only heart Iíve ever needed.

Chorus 3:

Am                        F                  C        G
Oh, but Lover. Iíve got Vices like any other man.
Am                        F      C          G
Vices that youíre not used to. Vices thatíll make you think...
Am                        F                  C        G
Oh, but Lover. Iíve got Vices like any other man.
Am                        F       C          G
Vices that youíre not used to. Vices thatíll make you think less of me. Less of me.

Verse 4:

Feeling cold, feeling empty. I am low, unworthy.
Bleed the God. Bleed the blessing. Like a vulture feasting.
Iíll exist as if I donít feel conviction of my ignorance to my perfect prison.
But I feel the stabs on my wrists and ankles every time I try...
          Am   F
To forget you. 
           C    G
To forget you.

Chorus 4

Am                        F             C        G
Oh, but Jesus. Iíve got Vices like any other man.
Am                 F              C            G                       Am
Vices that youíre so used to. Vices that wonít make you think less of me.
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# A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z